Clenched Soul
by Grifterwitch
Summary: It is three years after the war, and Harry Potter is drifting through a half-life. A chance encounter at a bar, and a world of revelations, will attempt to make him whole again. Mostly DH compliant. My first attempt at fan fiction.
1. Wake Up

Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter, the characters, the settings, and the details are not my own. J.K Rowling holds the rights to these wonderful things, and I am in awe of her talent. I own only my original characters, and of those there are not many.

Chapter One: Wake Up

"And what cats have to tell/ on each return from hell /is this: that dying is what the living do,/ that dying/ is what the loving do,/ and that dead dogs are those who do not know/ that dying is what, to live, each has to do." – Alastair Reid

If he were still speaking to the media, and he had made sure that he wasn't since the end of the war, he would have told them that everything that had happened had taught him one great life lesson. This lesson, one he had told Ron and Hermione countless times while piss drunk, was that life was a string of surprises until death. Depending on whether his mood was dark or not, he was often fond of adding that the majority of these surprises were bad. Had he have watched the series _Deadwood_, he no doubt would have changed his motto to "life is one vile fucking task after another", but he wasn't much of a TV watcher.

No instead after the war Harry Potter had made a fine job of disappearing off the face of the planet without going anywhere. He had created spells to make Grimmauld Place look inhabited, had stopped reading the _Daily Prophet_, and had taken up writing under a false name. In the Muggle world Harry was considered a star, although he made no appearances, and the photo on his book jackets was a fake. He went nowhere without a glamour on, and he never made waves.

Ron believed he was pissing his life away, and never failed to tell him so, but Hermione believed he was dealing with the final battle in his own quiet way. Everyone had lost someone they cared for, but Harry had lost something deeper; something intensely personal. His relationship with Ginny never picked back up, and she didn't seem to mind much. Harry's new life didn't appeal to her at all, and she barely spoke to him anymore.

Hermione had just announced that she and Ron were going to have their first child, so when Harry was told about the new club that was attracting so many customers because of its unique musical act he decided to go alone. He spent an hour spinning his glamour around him, changing his appearance to the point where he would be unrecognizable to anyone, and preparing to be someone happier for the night.

The club was called _Je Reviens_, and Harry got in with no trouble. It was buzzing, and everyone seemed ready for something that hadn't come yet. The stage at the front of the club was well-equipped and covered in instruments. Harry went straight to the bar and asked for a Firewhiskey from the bartender.

There was a very young girl sitting at the bar next to him, and he was interested in knowing why a child would be allowed in a nightclub. He watched her out of the corner of his eye as she sipped at a coke and read from a thick book. The bartender would occasionally refill her drink without a word, but often smiled at her.

Harry's interest in her peaked when she turned and looked at him. She was delicate, and rather adorable, with large dark eyes and long black hair pulled up into an intricate bun. Her outfit was entirely black, and she seemed so at ease with her surroundings that she may have been born in the club and only known it her whole life.

She smiled at Harry, and leaned closer to him. "Is this your first time?" she asked with a knowing smile, and Harry nodded. "You're going to like it here. I have a feeling this night is going to end very well for you."

Harry stared at her puzzled, and leaned in the way she was, "Why do you think that?" The girl smiled wider, and then put a small hand on his arm. She couldn't be more than twelve or thirteen, and he wondered again why she wasn't at the rebuilt Hogwarts, and where her parents were. She looked nothing like the bartender.

"Because I see very far, and very clearly Harry Potter," and after delivering this statement the lights flickered twice. She looked up at them, then stood and with a smile added, "Come backstage after the show. You'll be glad you did." She left him sitting at the bar; gob smacked, and headed backstage herself.

A few moments later the lights in the club dimmed and the patrons began to murmur as shadowy figures took the stage. Harry turned his attention towards the stage, and watched as the strains of music began and the spotlights kicked on. Standing at the head of the stage with a microphone in her hand was the little girl. She gave the crowd that same dazzling smile, and then began to sing.

To say that she was a good singer would be a dangerous understatement. Harry was blown away by the piercing quality of her voice, and it was obvious the rest of the crowd was too. He was immediately wrapped up in the music. Each song seemed to strike an emotional chord, and at one point in the night Harry found himself openly weeping at the bar as she sang a song about lost love and lost opportunity. If he had been the only one it may have been embarrassing, but the entire room was weeping with him. Harry allowed his mind to travel paths he hadn't gone in a long time as he watched her. He thought of his own lost friends, and the connections he once had to the Wizarding World, connections he had severed in his attempt to overcome the memory of the war. Most of them he didn't mind losing, but there were a few that still haunted him. He missed the staff at Hogwarts, and he missed the feeling of wonder he had when he was still an active part of that world. Even Quidditch had lost most of its allure, and Harry rarely flew for anything other than relaxation these days. He was old before his time, and Ron was right in pointing out that he had been alone these last three years after the war. He was twenty, but he was old.

The band took a break, and the girl came back to the bar through a crowd of congratulatory audience members before she took a seat beside Harry again. She took a long drink from the water the bartender had ready for her before she turned to him. "Are you enjoying yourself sir?" Harry found all he could do was nod. He was studying her a little closer now, and what he was seeing was a work in contrasts. Her eyes were dark, but they seemed to be back lit with a boundless amount of energy. She has obviously outgoing, but her dress was modest and somewhat Gothic with a very high neckline. She seemed so small, but her voice was huge. Finally he found his words, "I was blown away. Really it was brilliant. You look very young to be out here alone though." She seemed amused to hear this, and touched his arm again before she replied, "My father is in the audience. He's watching us right now to make sure you're no pervert. He's got a glamour on too." With that she pointed to a tall man in the front who was staring at them openly. She waved to him, and he got up and joined them without hesitation.

He nodded once to Harry, and then in the silkiest voice Harry had ever heard he spoke to his daughter. "Neruda, you know the rule about strangers." The lights flickered again, and she stood smiling at her father. "You should talk to him father; the two of you have a lot in common." With that she once again took to the stage, and Harry watched her go before turning to her father. The man sat beside him. "You'll have to excuse my daughter. She's far too forward at times." Harry smiled at the man, and wondered about his voice. It was so familiar, and yet so different. The tone was sex personified, and for the first time in a long time Harry found himself interested in a conversation with someone other than his small circle of friends. "It's alright. She seems wonderful. How long has she been singing here?" The man ordered a scotch, and took a sip before turning to Harry. "This is her second appearance. Before this she sang once or twice at the owner's old bar. She insists that singing in these places gives her an outlet for tension." At this Harry raised an eyebrow, "Tension? She's too young to be tense. Is Hogwarts that difficult on her?" The man's hand tightened almost imperceptibly on the glass he was holding. "She's not a student at Hogwarts." Harry started putting pieces together. She was using a microphone in a Wizarding bar, and she wasn't dressed in robes. "I'm sorry. I assumed. Does her mother come to her shows as well?" Harry asked peering around the bar. The man's hand stayed tight, and in a voice that sparked something inside Harry he responded, "Her mother is dead." For a moment the enormity of his social gaffes lay heavily upon him, but the moment ended when he recognized the voice. How had it taken him this long? He leaned forward, his face a mask of astonishment, and asked, "Are you Severus Snape?"


	2. A Child's Wishes

Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter, the characters, the settings, and the details are not my own. J.K Rowling holds the rights to these wonderful things, and I am in awe of her talent. I own only my original characters, and of those there are not many.

Chapter Two: A Child's Wishes

"Only enemies speak the truth; friends and lovers lie endlessly, caught in the web of duty." –Stephen King

The bartender had his hand on his wand. Harry didn't need to turn his head towards the man to see that his entire focus was on the two of them, and that if Harry moved just a little the man was ready to pull the wand and cast at him. In front of him the man he thought was Snape was just as tense, but not as obvious about being armed. "You have," he said dryly keeping his own vision on his glass, "a few moments to explain who you are and why you recognize me. Answer carefully."

Harry knew this would have to be done delicately. He could say that he was a former student, and that Snape's voice was recognizable anywhere. It would be true, which was good because he doubted he could lie successfully to the man, but if Snape found out later that he was Harry Potter there would be Hell to pay. On the other hand if he stated he was Harry Potter right now Snape would leave. Harry wasn't sure he wanted either outcome.

It only took Harry a few seconds to fully deliberate his options before he chose the second. "I'm Harry Potter. I recognized your voice." What happened next surprised Harry more than realizing his old Professor was the man sitting across from him. He saw the bartender visibly relax out of the corner of his eye and turn away from the men, but it was Snape's reaction that caught him off guard. Snape had visible emotional reactions. They were brief, and flew across his borrowed face so quickly that Harry was unable to identify all of them, but that there were any reactions to see at all amazed Harry. There was a brief moment of surprise, Snape's eyes traveled to the stage and the little girl standing on it watching them, surprise was followed by a cross between annoyance and amusement, followed by a look Harry found indecipherable, and then Snape's face closed down. "My daughter recognized you?" Harry nodded. Snape waved the bartender over to refill their drinks.

"Alright Mr. Potter. Have a pleasant evening." Snape stood with his glass, and began to turn away before Harry grabbed his arm and cried "Wait!" There were very few moments in Harry's life when he wondered at his own stupidity. Looking at his hand grasping Snape's arm he realized that this was one of them. Snape didn't move, didn't speak, he simply stared at Harry's hand as if it would explain Harry's actions for him. Harry expected him to shake the hand off and leave anyway, but Snape surprised him again by sitting back down and casting a privacy charm.

"Well Potter? What is it?" Harry rummaged through his brain looking for a response. The last time he had seen Severus Snape was at Snape's trial. It had taken the Ministry six months after the end of the war to get around to trying Severus Snape, and Harry had gathered as many witnesses as possible to help him. The trial was also the last time Harry had made a public appearance, and was keenly aware that Snape had been displeased to have Harry as his main character witness, or to have to be dependent on Harry for his freedom. There were any number of things Harry wanted to ask Snape. How had he survived Nagini's bite? Why did he wait until that moment to give Harry those memories? When had he gotten a daughter? What came out of Harry's mouth, a product of shock and alcohol, was instead "What have you been up to?"

Snape was silent for several moments, and Harry thought he might get up and leave for good this time. Instead Snape finally turned to Harry and responded in an even tone, "I have been running a mail-order potions business. As of last year I also teach the Advanced Potions class at Hogwarts, as my replacement is unable. What have you been up to Potter?"

For a brief and terrifying moment Harry could not think of a response. Then he swallowed a gulp of Firewhiskey and turned to face Snape, "I've been writing Muggle novels. They do pretty well." Snape raised an eyebrow, "Novels? What genre of novel are you writing Potter?" "Mysteries mostly, but some are labeled crime dramas. I have two full novels and a book of short stories out at the moment under a pen name." Severus nodded thoughtfully, and then turned his attention back to the stage. "Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger are well I presume?" Harry swallowed his shock and nodded. "They got married about two years ago. Hermione just announced that they're going to have their first child." At this Snape shook his head and looked back to Harry just long enough to say, "I am glad then that I am no longer a full-time professor. What about Miss Weasley?" Harry had to think for a moment to figure out who Snape meant, and when it dawned on him he looked into his glass. "It didn't go anywhere. She's engaged to a member of the Kenmare Kestrels. I hear she's very happy." Snape didn't turn to look at Harry with this pronouncement. Instead he sipped his drink before saying, "You don't seem to be very upset over this development."

Harry considered this statement. It was true that he had thought he and Ginny would work out, but it hadn't upset him the way he thought it would when she left. She had wanted to go out, and to live, and Harry hadn't. It was simple, and yet the death of their relationship was spurred along by an impressive number of shouting matches. After a few moments Harry realized he hadn't responded, and that Snape's eyes were once again on him. "No. No I'm not. How did your daughter see through my glamour?" Snape's eyes traveled to his glass, and the girl in question was delivering a good night to the crowd as Harry watched Snape consider his almost empty Scotch. "It's a talent she's always had." That seemed to be the end of it, and Harry didn't push for more.

For a moment Harry was sure this would be the end of the conversation, but Snape studied his daughter for a moment before continuing. "Why don't you visit Hogwarts? Minerva and Rubeus complain often." Harry was thrown off by the line of conversation, but he'd come this far with honesty, so it seemed that a little further couldn't hurt. "I don't visit many people anymore. I just…I've found it easier to be as alone as possible. Ron and Hermione hold on, but the majority of people let go after the war, and it's easier that way." Snape glanced at him once, and the look he sent Harry inspired a chill down his spine. "Potter. You are wasting away in self-imposed isolation. People die in wars. Did you think everyone would live because you are The Harry Potter?"

Harry bit back his anger, and replied tersely, "Snape, I'm an adult. I can decide what to do with my own life." Snape didn't turn at the anger in Harry's voice, but the eyebrow on Harry's side of his borrowed face rose in a familiar gesture. "What life Potter?"

Snape stood as his daughter crossed the room through the same congratulations and praise. "I believe I have fulfilled my daughter's wishes, and so good evening Mr. Potter." That was the moment she came upon them, and Harry watched as she wrapped a casual hug around her father that went unreturned. She smiled at Harry. "Did you have a good time Mr. Potter?" Harry nodded. "Good. I'm glad. Father never talks to anyone, and I thought it would be-"

"That's enough Neruda. Let's get home now." She looked up at Snape, and then turned her dark gaze back to Harry. "Mr. Potter, would you do us the honor of dining with us this Wednesday?"


	3. Dinner for Three

Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter, the characters, the settings, and the details are not my own. J.K Rowling holds the rights to these wonderful things, and I am in awe of her talent. I own only my original characters, and of those there are not many.

Chapter Three: Dinner for Three

"Solitude is impractical and yet society is fatal." –Ralph Waldo Emerson

"So what did you say?" Hermione poured Harry more tea as she listened to his recounting of the night before. Ron sat on the other side of the kitchen table staring into some middle space a look of confusion on his face. "Well," Harry sipped his tea, "Snape went stiff as a board, and looked at her like she'd lost her mind. I was going to say no, but she just looked… so cute. I said yes. I was sure Snape would say no right afterwards, but she kinda squeezed his hand, and he just told me the address to their home before he stalked off with her in tow."

"Snape has a daughter?" Ron asked for the fifth time. Hermione and Harry both ignored him. "Harry this is wonderful! How long has it been since you spent any time with someone other than Ron and I?" Harry gave Hermione a look. She attempted to look properly chastised, but the smile on her face kept coming through. "So what's her name?"

"Snape has a daughter?"

"Neruda. He called her Neruda." Hermione's face became puzzled for a moment. She held up a finger and disappeared into the other room. When she came back she held a slim volume in her fingers, and she handed it to Harry. "You should probably read that before you go. I don't know if it's really connected, but it seems awful coincidental." Harry took the book with him, hugged Hermione, slapped Ron's shoulder, and took the Floo to his flat.

When he was gone Ron turned to Hermione and asked, "But who's the mother?"

Harry dropped the book on his hall table and headed back to his study. He was at least three chapters behind, and he had a lot of work to do before his editor began calling. At the moment Harry's repeat protagonist, Detective Ralston, was stuck in a case he hadn't wanted, and didn't understand. Harry had been dragging his feet with this plot for some time, because until this novel Ralston had always been in complete control. Harry was taking a risk making him vulnerable now, but the character had begun to seem inhuman to him, and Harry wanted to take him down a peg or two. The problem was with Ralston being out of control, Harry felt out of control as well.

When he sat down in front of the computer it was late Sunday night, and when he left it for a sandwich and some sleep it was Monday afternoon. He spent Tuesday doing more research for the book, and the beginning of Wednesday dreading his decision to accept the dinner invitation. He doubted Snape would be as civil at dinner as he was at the bar, and he was still slightly angry that Snape of all people accused him of not having a life. If anyone understood the need to be solitary it should be Severus Snape.

Hermione firecalled him that morning to remind him to take a gift to his hostess, and to be as open-minded as possible, and she smiled like a loon the whole time. Ron poked his head into the call just long enough to remind Harry to find out who Neruda's mother was. Harry apparated early, a bouquet of orchids clutched in one fist and his defenses on high alert. He headed down the country road outside of Cornwall towards the property Snape had identified.

The postal box at the road indicated the driveway, but from his viewpoint all Harry could see was a long dirt driveway stretching into the woods. He walked down it for a quarter of a mile, feeling the tingle of wards halfway through, and as he came to the end of it a large clearing opened up. Standing in the center of the clearing was a cozy looking two-story home, and Harry pulled his coat tighter and headed to the front door. He rang the bell once, and readjusted his grip on the flowers.

It was Neruda that answered the door, and her smile was beatific as she ushered Harry inside and exclaimed over the flowers. The interior decoration wasn't exactly what Harry expected, and he was surprised by the warmth of the house. The hallway Neruda led him down was plastered with pictures of her and Snape, and Harry didn't fail to notice that they weren't very old. He didn't see a single baby picture, or one of her with a woman.

Neruda didn't comment as Harry stared in wonder at the pictures here in the hallway. Some of them were simply amazing to look at. Neruda standing beside Severus Snape at a zoo, her smiling widely and a small…grin on Snape's face. In one picture she was a bit smaller, and Snape was holding her against him in a fierce grip. His eyes were closed and his mouth was moving, but Harry couldn't make out the words. Her shoulders were shaking. This was the picture Harry stared at the longest, and eventually he realized the scar around Snape's neck was still somewhat fresh. This one must have been taken around the time of the trial. Neruda cleared her throat gently, and gestured onward.

Neruda led him to a dining room with a good sized table set for three, and offered him a seat. "Father is in his lab, and usually comes out once dinner is done. It should only be a few more minutes. If you'll have a seat Mr. Potter I'll be right back." She pushed her way through a door at the far end of the room, and Harry was left alone to sit. He could hear music coming from the room she had gone into. He didn't recognize it, but he enjoyed the soothing sounds of a piano for several minutes before he heard her shout, "Father! Dinner's ready!"

Harry heard a door in the background, and then Snape entered the dining room. He was in his customary robes, and he nodded once to Harry before heading for the door. She pushed through it before he could go in, and Harry watched as his jaw tightened and he took the heavy tray she was carrying away from her without a word. This ritual continued, as every time she came out of the kitchen with something Snape would take it from her. His silence was almost oppressive, and when everything was out she asked him politely to carve the roast. Snape wielded the knife in a way that left Harry wondering about his safety.

When the carving was done Neruda turned to Harry and said, "Please, help yourself Mr. Potter." Harry followed Snape's example, filling his plate with vegetables, Yorkshire pudding, mash, and meat. Neruda poured his glass full of wine, and filled her own with milk, then sat down and began to eat.

"So, Mr. Potter, father tells me you write novels?" "Yes. That's right." Snape looked only at his food as Neruda spoke. "How is your current work going?" Harry's eyes cut to Snape for a moment, then back to Neruda, "Very well. I was stuck for a while, but I think I've found my way now. My main character was lost for a little while. It's kinda hard to explain, but until now he's been a bit of a superhero. I wanted to make him human, and it seems the transition was hard."

Neruda's smile widened, "That is always a hard transition to make. Public perception is often a stone around a person's neck. How is everything else going for you?" Snape still looked only at his food, and Harry began to wonder if he was even listening. "Everything is going well. My best friends are going to have their first child." "How wonderful! And you Mr. potter? Are there children in your future?"

Here Snape looked up, met her eyes, and shook his head. "Too personal Neruda. We discussed this." Neruda's smile disappeared. Harry looked at him for a moment, and then turned back to her, "It's not too personal. No, there aren't any prospects in the near future for children." Snape went back to eating. "So Neruda, you cooked all of this?" She nodded smiling again. "Father and I agree that forcing sentient creatures to work is wrong. I like cooking, so we don't need House Elves for anything. I made an incredible tart for dessert. I promise you're going to love it!" Harry found himself smiling in response to her enthusiasm. "Where do you go to school?" Here Snape made a noise, and when Harry's eyes cut to him his hand was clenching his fork tightly. Neruda's smile wavered for only a moment, "Father instructs me here at home. I'm not capable of casting magic, so Hogwarts is not an option, but father doesn't trust the local school system."

This bothered Harry. Reading between the lines he recognized that what she was saying was that she stayed home all day cooking and cleaning for Snape. There was an aspect to it that was reminiscent of Harry's childhood, and he worried that this sweet little girl was being raised in the sort of loveless existence he had been. Still he had seen that picture in the hallway, and he knew Snape felt for her. The look on Snape's face, the grip of his arms, all of it spelled a mixture of love and relief. Harry wanted to ask Snape, but he knew it would be crossing a line that could not be crossed. He kept his mouth shut. As soon as the main course was over Snape stood stiffly and used magic to move the plates into the kitchen with him. He returned with dessert plates, and the tart.

Harry watched Neruda as she watched her father. When he cut the tart and served it his motions were slightly gentler than they had been removing the dinner plates, and she seemed to relax. She chatted with Harry about movies as they ate dessert, and when it was finished Snape stood again. "I must return to my brewing. Thank you for coming Mr. Potter." With that Snape disappeared, and Neruda stood as well. Harry looked at the kitchen door, considered his options, and then turned back to Neruda. "Let me help you with those dishes."

Author's Note: I would like to say thank you both to the people following this story and to the reviewers. This is a work of discovery for me. It has been a long time since I have attempted to create anything, and each step of this process is a small and halting one. There is a scene several chapters from now that was the inspiration for this story, and I hope it will affect you as much as it did me. All criticism is welcome, and I am glad for each comment you leave. School has started back up, and it is my last semester in undergrad, so I am taking two GREs, applying to grad schools, preparing to move, and planning my wedding. I hope that I will be prompt with updates, but if not please don't give up on me. I won't abandon this.


	4. Introductions

Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter, the characters, the settings, and the details are not my own. J.K Rowling holds the rights to these wonderful things, and I am in awe of her talent. I own only my original characters, and of those there are not many.

Chapter Four: Introductions

"It's not true. Some have great stories, pretty stories that take place at lakes with boats and friends and noodle salad. Just no one in this car. But, a lot of people, that's their story. Good times, noodle salad. What makes it so hard is not that you had it bad, but that you're that pissed that so many others had it good." –Melvin Udall

Harry dried dishes as she handed them to him. They had been quiet for several minutes before Harry finally got up the nerve to ask, "Snape said your mother passed away. Do you mind if I ask how it happened?" Neruda's eyes never left the dishes, and her hands continued to steadily move as she answered, "My mother was murdered by Death Eaters during the war. The same is true of my sister, and my biological father." Harry took another dish and dried it slowly, trying not to look away from them. When he replied his voice was not as steady as hers had been. "So Snape adopted you after the war?"

Neruda handed him the last dish, and then directed him to the small table in the kitchen. Harry sat, and she placed a cup in front of him and started a batch of tea. After several moments of industrious silence she sat in front of him waiting for the tea to begin boiling.

"Father and I met while my family was being held captive by the Death Eaters. He was commissioned to make me better, and in doing so I became very fond of him. After the war, and his trial, an auror that had been put into the Department of Families helped push the official adoption through. The papers were filed after he was found innocent." She stopped to pick up the teapot, and then to pour them both a cup before sitting and taking back up her story.

"I understand that it was mainly your intervention that saved my father's life. I cannot thank you enough for that Mr. Potter, and yet that isn't the reason I invited you here tonight. My father lives his life entirely for me. I know sometimes it seems hard to believe, and you probably get the impression he's disappointed in my lack of magical ability. That isn't the case. But father is lacking in…adult companionship. It wasn't hard to notice that you were as well, and I believe that the two of you could become very good friends. I wanted you to come here so that a friendship could develop between you two."

Harry sat silent across from her, unsure of what he should respond with. Finally he asked hesitantly, "Neruda, how old are you?" She smiled, "Twelve. I turned twelve last month." Harry shook his head. "I know that you're very mature for your age, I can see that, but what you're asking is probably impossible. Your father and I have a history, and it's not very good. I wouldn't mind being friendly with him, but I can't see it happening." Neruda grabbed Harry's hand, and the rest of his objections died before they could cross his lips. "Please Mr. Potter. You have to give my father a chance to prove you wrong. It takes him a while to open up to people, but once he does it's worth it. Trust me." Harry stared into her dark eyes for several moments, before he nodded and she released his hand. She looked away before she spoke again, "When I met father I wasn't frightened. I knew that he wouldn't…hurt me the way the others had. I knew he would protect me. He was in a terrible position, and instead of turning me back over to them he exaggerated my injuries to keep me safe. Even when he found out the truth about me and my family, he never once exploited my feelings for him. He's a good man. He deserves to be happy."

Confused, Harry leaned in and asked, "What truth about your family?" The kitchen door swung open, and anything else she might have said went away with the sight of Severus Snape. He stood silently in the doorway for several moments before crossing to the counters to take a teacup, and then joining them at the table and pouring himself a cup. "Mr. Potter. I was wondering if you'd join us again next Wednesday? Seeing as Neruda has taken such a liking to you it would be pleasant to have your company again."

For the first three weeks Harry went to dinner with Neruda and Snape it was the same as the first evening. Dinner was always wonderful, Snape always joined them when it was time to eat, and left during the cleanup. He was silent, but Neruda and Harry talked about all manner of things as they sat at the table. Harry never got a chance to pursue the questions he had regarding Neruda's family, as Snape would join them for tea afterwards. Whether he knew that Harry and Neruda had begun the conversation was unclear, but Harry suspected he did.

Snape never spoke during the after dinner teas, but he always followed the conversations with his eyes. The fourth week signaled a change, as Snape was the one who answered the door. He led Harry to the dining room, then came out of the kitchen with a train of dishes floating behind him. It was only after he called upstairs to Neruda that Harry realized he had been the chef for the night. It was all Harry could do to avoid smelling the food for potions.

Dinner that night had another noticeable difference, as Snape would occasionally join in on the conversation Harry and Neruda were having about literature. Snape's opinions were short, and often slightly harsh, but it was the mentioning of Oscar Wilde that changed everything. Snape's commentary on Wilde's harsh views regarding societal customs was insightful and witty, and Harry surprised himself and Snape by laughing at one of his comments. Neruda seemed overly pleased.

After dinner Snape offered for Harry to join him in his study for drinks. Neruda claimed exhaustion and headed to bed. Harry had one Firewhiskey with Snape, and fifteen minutes of an almost comfortable silence before he excused himself. His work on his latest novel flew, and Ralston's more human image refined itself with each page.

The fifth and sixth weeks saw Snape commenting more and more, and on the seventh he actually started one of the debates. This time the topic was music, and Snape and Harry found themselves in a rather lively discussion regarding the value of modern rock music. Neruda sat quietly smiling at the two of them. The new after dinner tradition had become a glass of liquor in the study, and Neruda drinking tea. Harry was no longer invited to Wednesday night dinners, he simply came and they were prepared for him. The more he went the more comfortable he became with the father and daughter. His concerns regarding her home life slipped away as he saw countless examples of Snape's devotion to his daughter. Slight touches to the top of her head, or her shoulder were common practice. When she went to bed Snape would often excuse himself to check on her before returning to the study. Harry found himself staying later and later as conversation between the two men became a regular occurrence.

After two months the dinners became Wednesday and Friday nights, and Harry found that Snape's insights regarding his protagonist were not only helpful but necessary. Neruda had a second show around that time, and Harry went with the two of them to see her sing.

He was once again amazed by the power of her voice, and the insight her songs had. It scared him how adult she was when she was on stage, and he was often reminded of that first night, and the way she reported the deaths of her family. He wondered at what the Death Eaters did to her, and why they had targeted her family in the first place. He didn't dare ask.

It was the third month of these visits that Harry's dinners became three nights a week, and he found that he had begun to come an hour or two before dinner without planning too. Snape had opened the Floo to him, and Harry was glad to avoid trudging through the deep snow to get to the house. It was at one of their Friday night dinners a week before Christmas that the topic of the holidays came up. Neruda began it.

"Mr. Potter, will you be spending Christmas with the Weasleys?" Snape looked up from the book he was reading, and closed it around his finger. Harry hesitated, "No. Probably not. Ron likes to go see his family, and I don't really visit the Burrow anymore." The room was silent for several moments. Neruda was staring intensely at her father, but Snape was looking into the fire. Finally he spoke, "Potter. You would be welcome to come here if you have nowhere else to go."

Harry reminded himself it would be bad form to stare with his mouth open, so he kept it closed while he considered the offer. Snape waited a few moments, and then roughly said, "It was just an offer Potter. You can say no without breaking my delicate heart." Harry jerked at the rebuke, and Neruda winced slightly. "That's not it. It just seems like it would be an imposition to stay during such a family oriented holiday." Snape still wasn't looking at him, but Neruda stood and walked towards the door.

"I'm very tired. I think I'll head to bed now. I hope you change your mind Mr. Potter." Snape sat silently looking into the fire, and Harry sensed that the two of them had taken a backwards step. He tried to find a way to fix things. "Look, it's just that Neruda told me about her family, and I thought-" Snape had stood so fast Harry wasn't sure what was happening till Snape's hand was on his shoulder and his wand at Harry's throat. "What did she tell you Potter? What did she tell you and who did you tell?"


	5. Pain

Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter, the characters, the settings, and the details are not my own. J.K Rowling holds the rights to these wonderful things, and I am in awe of her talent. I own only my original characters, and of those there are not many.

Chapter Five: Pain

"Pain or damage don't end the world. Or despair or fucking beatings. The world ends when you're dead. Until then, you got more punishment in store. Stand it like a man... and give some back."- Al Swearengen

Harry sat very still. The wand point dug into his throat as he swallowed, and tried not to lose his cool. Long periods of practice regarding self-defense helped, but Harry was getting angry. His voice came out a growl, "Take your fucking wand out of my throat Snape. Now." Later Harry would wonder how much of Snape's reaction was honestly anger, and how much was simply overprotective reaction. That would be when Harry was once again capable of rational thought.

What happened instead was with the removal of the wand Harry stood, stepped towards Snape, and punched the taller man in the nose. In his Hogwarts days a threat and an accusation from Snape were cause for bumbling uncertainty followed by impotent anger. Those memories, coupled with the adrenaline from his fight or flight reactions, and the darker parts of Harry that had grown and built through the course of the war and its fallout led his fist, and the connection he made was solid and hard. Snape took one staggering step backward his hand over his face.

Harry had time to feel only a second of guilt, and his fist uncurled as he stepped forward to look at the damage he had done to Snape's nose. He opened his mouth to speak, and instead expelled his breath as Snape's fist connected solidly with his stomach. All the air forced out of him he started to double, and Snape's fist connected with his jaw. The fight began in earnest, and neither man was willing or capable of backing down.

The violence led them across the room, fists flying and feet kicking, crashing into the warm and well-built furniture that decorated Snape's study. The back of Harry's head collided with glass covering a photo, Snape's shoulder went through the glass front of a bookshelf, and the two destroyed the bar sending glasses flying and exploding the bottle of Snape's favorite scotch. It was with the discordant crash that the sound of loud music from upstairs dominated the background.

Until this point neither man had spoken, and other than the crashes, and the sounds of skin hitting skin, the room's only noise had been their grunts of anger and pain. Now they both stopped, and realized that upstairs a little girl was listening to them beat each other senseless. They stared at one another for several silent moments, and then Snape stepped through the door that led down to his library.

Harry looked around the room at the shards of glass that had gone flying, at the spilled Scotch, splatters of blood, and recognized how far he had allowed himself to lose control. He began casting spells all over the room. Repairing what he could, sweeping up and banishing what he couldn't, till Snape reappeared with four potion bottles, and another bottle of Scotch.

Harry drank the healing potion and the pain potion without comment, and Snape rescued the two glasses from the coffee table and poured each of them a drink. They sat on the floor in front of the fire without a word; one chair destroyed too badly to fix and the other leaning precariously. For several moments the room was silent except for the strains of music coming from upstairs, and the sound of the fire crackling in the fireplace.

Harry wasn't terribly interested in breaking the silence first, and was completely uninterested in apologizing. This fight had been a long time coming, and Harry felt purged after it. Years of antagonism and dislike had melted away in the course of minutes, and Harry was pretty sure he'd left the last of his resentment for Snape when he'd pushed the man through his own bar.

It was almost bitterly amusing that years of Dumbledore's gentle lectures and attempts at peace-making had no effect, but one brutal physical confrontation solved almost everything. Harry felt clean, and for the first time since Sirius's death Harry felt at peace. He could sit on this carpet forever in this state with no regrets.

Snape spoke first.

"A matter of months before the end of the war Voldemort arrived in the safe house I had left Hogwarts for. He had with him a bundle of blankets, and within those blankets was Neruda. It was not her name, as far as he knew she didn't have one. She chose that name later. On his orders several Death Eaters I never knew the names of had abducted her family, and begun to torture them. Her parents were both special. Magical creatures. In their children they had created two very powerful hybrids, but it was Neruda's gift that they wanted. She had been raped, beaten, and made to watch the murder of her entire family. Her gift was useless, because she couldn't speak. Voldemort left her with me to heal her, to make her speak again."

Snape took a long drink, and Harry followed his example. Snape poured them both new glasses. Harry recognized the two of them were getting drunk together, and this story seemed to make that a necessity. "She was covered in blood, tiny, defenseless. I drew a bath to wash the blood off, to attempt to figure out the extent of the damage, and I expected her to fight me when I tried to touch her. She didn't. I know now that she knew the minute I touched her arm I was neither a pedophile nor a sadist. Then all I knew was she looked me in the eye and trusted me."

For a moment Snape lowered his face into his hand and took long, deep breaths. Harry downed his entire drink and took a refill, his mind flying from one thing to another. "I gave her healing potions, told her not to speak. I did not know what her family had been, and I did not know what she was. I only knew she needed help. It took a month for her to speak to me. I warned her not to speak in front of the Death Eaters that visited to check her progress, and I pretended it was much slower going than it was. Eventually the end of the war came. I was preparing to die. I had arranged for her to be discovered by an auror, and I knew he would put her somewhere safe with a good family. He didn't trust me, but he was dedicated to the idea of protecting innocent children. She grabbed my arm, handed me a small bag with potions in it, and called me father. She said, 'Please come home father.'"

"I never found out who hurt her that way. I know some of it was Bellatrix, but she was unable to name her rapist. She is my daughter Potter. Plain and simple. I would do anything to protect her."

Harry stared at Severus. It all made sense now to him. The adoption was handled by magical authorities because she was a magical creature of some kind, Severus lived out here in isolation with her in case any remaining Death Eaters tried to find her. Harry could not imagine the amount of work it had taken for her to get Severus to let her go on stage, to make herself public in that forum. Harry also had a hard time figuring out the amount of courage it would take for her to get up there, never knowing when a former Death Eater could walk in and recognize her.

He didn't care what she was, and he knew telling Snape that would mean nothing so he didn't. he proved the point by not asking what she was, or what they wanted now that Snape knew. Neruda was just a little girl in Harry's estimation. A little girl who needed love and care.

He gratefully took another refill from Snape, his head buzzing and spinning with thoughts, recriminations, and booze, everything piling on at once. Suddenly he started speaking, "I only had sex with Ginny once. Afterwards she lay beside me, panting, a smile on her face. She was so glad we had finally crossed the line, and she was going on and on about how wonderful it was. I hated it. I felt guilty that I had just done something that Fred would never do. That Remus and Tonks would never do. I had failed all those people, and now Ginny wanted me to celebrate surviving beyond them. I hated it and I hated her. Hated all of them for living when the others had died. Hated everyone."

Harry took a deep steadying drink, "I wrote my first novel piss drunk. Ralston was all the things I had never been. He thought his actions through, approached things logically, and he always won. Always. He saved everyone he came across. That was my goal and I failed, but Ralston could succeed. I would have let the manuscript sit on my hard drive forever but Hermione saw it and sent it in. It got accepted, I made money, I had a purpose. Hermione was so fucking pleased, but I couldn't care less. It's not that I don't love her, or Ron, or the Weasleys, but I can barely bring myself to see them. To see them so happy, or to see them healing. I was a fucking child, and the whole world wanted me to be a killer and save them. So when I realized it was you in that bar I wanted to see if you were as miserable as I was. You weren't."

Harry looked away from Snape now, and it seemed like going further with this course of conversation was the worst idea he could pursue. He had never discussed these feelings with Hermione or Ron, and had never planned to vocalize them to anyone. It could be his aching head, or the copious amounts of alcohol in his system, or simply the exhaustion of being alone with these feelings. Whatever it was Harry dove into the deepest part of it.

"You were happy. You were happy and I didn't hate you for it. I didn't hate you but I envied you. Your daughter loves you, and the two of you have found meaning in each other. I don't have that, and I don't think I can. It's kinda fucked up, but the first time I had an interest in another human being after the war was when I heard your voice in that bar. It's terrible, but I just want to be part-"

Harry stopped when Snape touched his arm. He took another deep breath before he turned to look at Snape. There was a moment where they simply stared at each other, considering the other's confession. Finally Harry spoke again.

"I would love to come stay for Christmas."

Author's Note: I would like to once again thank everyone for reviewing or following this. I want to say a special thanks regarding the comment about dialogue. I think that for stories that feature Snape the dialogue is always the hardest part, and so I approached that very cautiously. Formatting the rest of the dialogue never came to mind, and so it's helpful to know better ways to present it. I know that dialogue can make or break a story, and I hope here it's making it. Or at least landing on an even keel.


	6. Contemplation

Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter, the characters, the settings, and the details are not my own. J.K Rowling holds the rights to these wonderful things, and I am in awe of her talent. I own only my original characters, and of those there are not many.

Chapter Six: Contemplation

"Man cannot remake himself without suffering, for he is both the marble and the sculptor." -Dr. Alexis Carrel

When Harry woke up there were two hangover potions and two pepper-up potions waiting beside his head. Across from him Snape was still deeply asleep, and Harry gave himself a quiet moment to study the other man. In his sleep the harsher lines in his face smoothed out, and left him looking like a different person. His shirt collar had been opened some time last night, and Harry could see the terrible scar left by Nagini's bite. The tissue was thick and twisting, and Harry held his breath as he reached out with a trembling hand and touched the mark as gently as possible.

Fascinated both with the results of his action, and the action itself, he moved his fingers from the rough skin of the scar to the smooth skin of Snape's collarbone beneath the mark. Harry's fingers moved back upwards, over the scar tissue and to Snape's face. He trailed them along the proud hooked nose, and then over the thin lips before touching Snape's forehead. He brushed a bit of fine hair out of Snape's eyes, and then withdrew his hand satisfied with the results of his exploration. Snape's skin was soft, smooth, warm, and Harry liked touching it. He rubbed his tingling fingertips for a moment, and then downed one of each potion before standing up and heading for the bathroom.

After a quick wash and using the toilet Harry went into the kitchen, where Neruda was making poached eggs and sausages. She looked up at him, and then back down at the frying pan before speaking, "I saw that you and father had a late night. I thought you might appreciate breakfast." She flipped the sausages, and began scooping out the eggs. Harry moved to the toaster wordlessly to help her. A few moments later Snape came into the kitchen, and when Harry looked up he caught the older man staring strangely at him. Snape took over the frying pan to Neruda's right, and added the sliced tomatoes to it.

The three worked for several moments in companionable silence before Snape cleared his throat. "Neruda, what you heard last night won't happen again. Mr. Potter and I have worked those differences out. He'll be coming Christmas Eve, and staying till New Year's Day."

Neruda closed her eyes for a moment, and then opened them and scooped the sausages out onto a serving plate. "That will be wonderful. I'll prepare the guest bedroom tomorrow." With this she picked up the sausage plate and the egg plate and headed for the kitchen table. Harry and Snape brought over the rest of the food, and the three sat down to a full breakfast. After they had finished eating Harry stood and excused himself. He headed for the Floo, and a few moments later he landed gracelessly in his own living room.

It wasn't hard to make a comparison between the two living rooms. His was Spartan at best, and if not for the scattered research would look like an empty but furnished flat. He had never thought there would be a moment in his life when he compared his living quarters to those of Severus Snape's, but here that moment was. He still wasn't sure if this turn of events was a good surprise or a bad one. He was willing to find out though.

Harry moved into the kitchen, poured himself some pumpkin juice and went to work. He had a lot of writing to do if he wanted to be able to enjoy his holidays.

Harry was sitting at his kitchen table two days before Christmas Eve with Ron and Hermione. It was their tradition to come over this close to the holidays so Hermione could casually mention the celebration at the Burrow. It was Harry's tradition to say he had a lot of work to do. Harry was waiting for the question as Hermione described the many baby books she had already read. Every few moments Ron would look up from the reports he was working on for work to make a grunt that suggested agreement. The rest of the time he simply sat silent, staring at the pages with the same mixture of dread and concentration he used to apply to homework.

After five particularly grueling minutes of conversation regarding the perfect classical music to play for the baby, not too harsh but not too simple Hermione insisted, Harry finally cut to the point. "Hermione, before you ask, I have plans for the holidays. Plans with people. Outside of my flat. They won't be changing."

Hermione looked at Harry for a moment with an expression that suggested the sudden appearance of a second head. Then she patted his arm and replied, "Of course you do Harry. So Haydn is often soothing but…"

The conversation droned for what seemed forever to Harry. It wasn't that he was uninterested in Hermione and Ron's baby, but he couldn't seem to muster up even fake excitement for Hermione's maternal surge. Harry had always wanted a family as a child, but he had no interest in babies. It was the idea of family that he loved, and Harry would give anything when he was young to have that sort of togetherness. Despite the Dursley's words at the end of the war Harry had no interest in continuing a connection with the people who had flirted, and sometimes crossed, the lines of child abuse with him when he was young.

No, he mused as Hermione moved on to the necessity of gender neutral colors for apparel and décor, if he was honest with himself it was something like what Snape had that Harry wanted. A child that needed love the way Harry had needed love, and he would add to the mix a significant other. This thought led to one Harry had not given any time to since his dinners at Snape's house began, and one he did not have time for right now with Ron and Hermione watching.

When Hermione and Ron left Harry headed to his kitchen and brewed himself some tea. He was about to spend an extended period of time at Snape's house, and it would be best if he had worked out this issue in his mind before he did. He had to admit to himself that he felt more alive with Snape and Neruda than he had since before the war.

He felt an almost paternal affection for Neruda, and it was mixed in with his admiration of her ability to heal after the tragedies she had faced within the war. He gained an enormous pleasure from helping her cook, from talking to her, and seeing her always excited and pleased him. It wasn't hard to figure out why; as she was the kind of girl he would have wanted if he had children. His feelings towards Neruda were easily explainable, and completely straightforward.

His feelings towards Snape were an entirely different matter, and Harry wasn't sure he could properly explain them to someone outside of his own head. Snape had been a hated enemy in school, but Harry knew now that the majority of the traits he hated about Snape in school were manufactured. Snape was playing a part, and Harry had bought his act without a moment's hesitation. He had no doubt the man had hated his father, and that the parts of James Potter he saw within Harry were hated as well.

Still Harry knew that Snape had loved his mother, and that while Harry was busy trying to prove he was a Voldemort supplicant, Snape had been busy risking his life for the cause. The man had eschewed all possible connections and any small amount of happiness he could have had to fight for Dumbledore, and for Harry in the long run. Had it not been for Neruda he would have died on that shack floor, and he would have done so with a ruined reputation and a wasted life.

In this way Harry admired Snape as well, not just for his dedication but for his ability to pick up the pieces of his life. The man had been dealt one of the roughest hands Harry had ever seen, and he played them in a way that preserved his dignity and ultimately won him happiness. So his admiration for Snape was logical, but the other feelings were a tangled mess of confusion. When he had been next to Snape on the floor and touched his skin there had been a mixture of curiosity and arousal. Snape's voice that first night in the bar, so unrecognizable without sarcasm or derision, had the same result.

Harry had never been attracted to a man before, and he wasn't entirely sure if he was attracted to Snape, or just the idea of Snape. A person who understood suffering, and the importance of recognizing it, someone admirable and caring, and most importantly someone loyal to the point of self-sacrifice. It was a potent combination of traits, and Harry was worried he was attracted to those things, and Snape's built in family, more than he was to Snape himself.

The second problem was he knew Snape liked women. Not just any women, Snape had been in love with Harry's mother. The possibility of Snape having any feelings for Harry were slim to none, and Harry was unsure if he could handle the rejection. To add to that he might ruin the budding friendship between them by approaching the subject. In the end the safest course was simply doing nothing, and continuing in the way they had been. Which Harry thought he could do.

When Harry arrived at Snape's house on Christmas Eve his mouth began watering the instant he walked through the fireplace. He could smell roast chicken along with an incredible number of savory other scents. Snape and Neruda were waiting in the study for him, and Neruda instantly moved forward and hugged Harry tightly. "Mr. Potter! Father and I have a surprise for you. Are you ready?"

Harry couldn't control his smile, and he nodded as she attempted to stand on her tiptoes high enough to cover his eyes. Snape moved forward gracefully and covered Harry's eyes for her. For a moment Harry was frozen, as he was overwhelmed with the scent of sandalwood and musk. Then Snape's other hand lightly touched his back and pushed him in the direction of the door. With each turn the gentle pressure on his back would lead him, and finally they stopped moving in what Harry knew was the dining room.

The hand lifted, and the first thing Harry saw was the table, longer than usual, and set for nine. His eyes moved from the heaps of food and place settings and landed on the surprise; Hermione and Ron stood beside Luna Lovegood and Neville Longbottom. Behind his old school mates stood a towering and emotional Hagrid and a tight-lipped Minerva McGonagall.


	7. Happy Christmas Harry

Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter, the characters, the settings, and the details are not my own. J.K Rowling holds the rights to these wonderful things, and I am in awe of her talent. I own only my original characters, and of those there are not many.

Chapter Seven: Happy Christmas Harry

"Ask him who his mother is. He'll declare the birds/ have eaten the path home, but each of us/ joins night's ongoing story/ wherever night overtakes him,/ the heart astonished to find belonging/ and thanks answering thanks." –Li-Young Lee

Harry stood motionless for several moments. In those moments the mood in the room shifted dramatically from one of high joviality to extreme apprehension. McGonagall's tight lips had become almost non-existent, Luna seemed oblivious but beside her Neville was wringing his hands, Hagrid's smile was dying slowly, and Ron and Hermione looked angry and tense respectively. Harry wasn't sure if he should simply walk out, or hit Snape in the face first and then walk out. A long-fingered hand landed on the back of his neck, and carefully turned his face to Neruda.

The girl had stepped back against the wall, and was tightly holding her own elbows as she stared at the floor. She looked like she was on the verge of tears, and her lip trembled for just a moment before she caught it in her teeth. Harry's anger dissipated, as he realized this wasn't Snape's idea at all. He took a deep breath, and then put his hand on Neruda's shoulders and waited for her to lift her eyes to him. Once he had eye contact he stated, in as enthusiastic a voice as possible, "I'm sorry. This is a wonderful surprise. I just wasn't expecting it."

At this, as if a floodgate had broken open the majority of the crowd across the room surged forward. Ron and Hermione stayed behind controlling their expressions carefully, and Snape stepped around Harry wordlessly and took Neruda's hand and led her into the kitchen. Hagrid got to Harry first, and his hug was hard enough to crack ribs. "Missed ya 'Arry! So much!" Hagrid released Harry into the arms of his former head of house.

McGonagall hugged Harry once, almost as tightly as Hagrid had, before pinching his ear hard. Harry was recoiling and reaching for the wounded ear as McGonagall pulled him into another hug. "Young man, we have been so worried about you. You should have kept in touch."

McGonagall gave way to Neville and Luna, and Harry accepted Luna's light hug gratefully, before shaking Neville's hand. "Harry," Luna dreamily stated, "I brought extra radishes to keep the Nargles away. To make sure this evening went perfectly. The mistletoe and all. I also missed you very much."

Harry took all of these comments and hugs with as much grace as he could muster. He knew he looked like a twat, but he had been completely unprepared to face the very people he had been avoiding for so long. He made several lame excuses, gave more hugs, and then excused himself towards the kitchen. On the way he finally came even with Ron and Hermione, and here he stopped on his own. He knew Hermione must have known about this the other day, and that it was the reason she hadn't brought the holidays up. He wanted to resent her for not warning him, but he knew why she hadn't. He hugged her tightly, and all the tension went out of her body. He turned to Ron, opened his mouth to speak, and instead hugged Ron as well. Then he stepped through the kitchen door.

On the other side Snape was crouched down in front of Neruda with his arms wrapped around her. He looked up at Harry silently for a moment before standing and pushing her forwards to face Harry. There were no tears in her eyes now, but she looked like she was about to face a firing squad. Harry had never felt like a bigger tit in his whole life. He made sure he spoke first, "I was just expecting your father and yourself. You don't know why I haven't seen the majority of the people out there since the war, and you shouldn't. I've been a right idiot, and you've made me take a step towards not being an idiot tonight. I appreciate it even if I reacted badly. Please, come out and have dinner with my other friends?" Harry offered his hand to her, and slowly Neruda took it.

His eyes met Snape's for just a moment, and he saw a variety of emotions there ranging from apprehension to relief. Harry was fairly sure he knew why and he marveled at Snape's generosity allowing people who had hated him so much into his home for Harry and Neruda's sake. If Snape could put aside his issues for an evening Harry would be damned if he couldn't.

The tense beginning of the dinner was soon forgotten. The food was incredible, and the company was intoxicating. Harry eventually forgot all about his years of self-imposed exile as he easily fell into the conversations. Hagrid caught him up on three years' worth of creature collecting, and told him all about the rebuilding of Hogwarts after the war. Luna told stories about the many explorations she and her father had been making, and the work they had been doing with the _Quibbler_ to raise awareness of the many undiscovered species that still existed. McGonagall talked about the restructuring of Hogwarts classes, and then told a rather humorous story regarding Snape's first year teaching and a group of first years that mistakenly thought he was a patient man. During the course of this story Harry watched Snape very carefully. Harry knew from stories the extent of Snape's treatment during his time as Hogwarts Headmaster, and he knew just how difficult things had been between Snape and McGonagall. He wondered briefly how the conversation that led to Snape teaching part-time had gone.

Hermione and Ron shared their own stories, and then when it came to Harry he hesitantly talked about his literary career. The pressure of conversation, as Neruda moved in between guests gracefully dropping off deserts, turned on Snape. Harry waited with almost baited breath to see if the man would take up his portion of the reunion. Instead of talking Snape stood and offered a pitiful excuse of needing to retrieve more wine. He disappeared through the kitchen door and Neruda took her seat quietly.

The conversation lapsed for a few moments, before Hermione turned to Neruda and smiled broadly. "You have to solve a mystery for me. Ever since Harry told me your name I've been wondering, are you named after the poet?"

Harry looked at Hermione in confusion, and with disappointment clearly evident she stated, "You didn't read the book I gave you did you? I told you that you should." Behind Hermione Ron was giving Harry a look of sympathetic encouragement. It was like being in school all over. Neruda saved him from further lecturing by cutting in.

"Yes. He is one of my father's favorite poets, and consequently one of mine. I know a good deal of his work by heart."

"Would you recite some?" Hermione asked, beaming on Neruda like she was the star student of the class. McGonagall seemed ready to interfere, but Neruda began to recite first. Her voice was clear and steady, but Harry felt the sadness behind it as she began to recite. He heard the kitchen door swing quietly open as Snape re-entered the room.

"We have lost even this twilight.  
>No one saw us this evening hand in hand<br>while the blue night dropped on the world.

I have seen from my window  
>the fiesta of sunset in the distant mountain tops.<p>

Sometimes a piece of sun  
>burned like a coin in my hand.<p>

I remembered you with my soul clenched  
>in that sadness of mine that you know.<p>

Where were you then?  
>Who else was there?<br>Saying what?  
>Why will the whole of love come on me suddenly<br>when I am sad and feel you are far away?

The book fell that always closed at twilight  
>and my blue sweater rolled like a hurt dog at my feet.<p>

Always, always you recede through the evenings  
>toward the twilight erasing statues."<p>

Harry's eyes stayed locked on Snape as Neruda recited, and he was amazed to see that same range of quickly-flitting emotions cross the man's face. There was pain, an incredible amount of pain, and an almost equal amount of concern mixed in with tenderness and affection. Before the next to last stanza Snape's eyes moved to Harry's, and he let the emotions stay plain on his face for another few seconds before recomposing himself. He clapped along with the rest of the room, and Neruda thanked them.

After dinner the majority of the guests left through the front door. Luna and Neville both gave Harry hugs, Hagrid once again crushed Harry to him before extracting a promise that Harry would visit Hogwarts. McGonagall gave him a long look before taking him into her arms and saying she would see him again. Hermione and Ron announced that they would be staying the night, and leaving for the Burrow in the morning. Everyone said goodnight, and the Weasleys headed for the study where Snape had transfigured them a bed. Neruda quietly led Harry upstairs to the guest bedroom. In all his time at Snape's house Harry had never been upstairs, and he was more prepared for the onslaught of pictures of Snape and his daughter that awaited him here. The guest room was tastefully furnished, and Harry was pleased to see it was painted in a soothing blue-green and had a window looking out into the snowy woods.

"Neruda, before you go, I want to thank you again for tonight. I needed this."

She gave him a long and piercing look, one that reminded him again that she was not your average twelve-year-old, before she responded. "Mr. Potter-"

"Please, you have to start calling me Harry."

She hesitated for a moment before responding. "Harry…Happy Christmas Harry."

After the door had closed Harry dropped onto the bed, staring at the bag that Snape had sent up to the room earlier. He had finally reconnected with the world he had abandoned, and it had felt good. When he had walked into that room the first thought in his head was that Snape, Snape of all people, was meddling in his life the way so many others always had. In a way it was still meddling that Neruda had done, but it had come not from a belief she knew better than Harry, but simple love.

She had argued with her father to bring his closest friends together inside his house, and Harry didn't believe for a moment it had been anything but an argument. She had gone to who knows how much trouble to get in contact with people Harry hadn't seen in three years, and then cooked a gigantic meal to feed and entertain all of them. She had done it because she wanted to give Harry the best gift she could, and she honestly had.

Harry knew it wasn't the fault of his friends that the burden of saving the world had been put on his shoulders, and he knew that they missed him, but he just didn't know what to say to them. What had been simply a few months of private time had spanned into years. The mixture of resentment and guilt made it so hard for Harry to put himself out there in trying to reconnect with them that he had simply never taken the chance, and here Neruda came making the whole thing as simple as possible.

There was a quiet knock at the door, and when Harry answered it Snape stood in the hallway looking incredibly uncomfortable. "Potter. My daughter is not the only one to blame for not telling you there would be a large group tonight. If it caused you unpleasantness then I am sorry."

Harry was so flabbergasted by the apology that for a moment he couldn't respond. Finally he replied, "Listen Snape, I was angry at first. I won't disagree with that, but it was a good thing. I'm really thankful actually. To both of you."

"I know that it was…hard for you to approach them after the war. Sometimes when we let old connections go it is more difficult to pick them back up again. It would be good for you to have support from people that love you, but it is ultimately your choice what you do."

Harry couldn't help himself. He smiled, and briefly he touched Snape's hand, "I'm very glad the two of you have invited me into your family for the holidays. There's nowhere else I'd rather be."

With this Snape nodded, and turned rapidly to swoop down the hallway to a door near the stairs. Harry shook his head, some things never changed.

In the morning Harry met Hermione in the hallway. She was headed towards the kitchen, and she looked pale and drawn. "Morning sickness." She said shortly, and followed him towards the kitchen where Harry could smell breakfast cooking already. "Does she always wake up this early?" Hermione asked as Harry pushed the door open.

Harry was about the answer yes when he saw Neruda standing in front of the stove in sleep pants and a tank top. Her back from below her neck to the line of the small shirt was heavily scarred and the scarring traveled across her shoulders and down her arms to her elbows, and Harry felt the cheery words he had been about the speak die in his mouth as his fists clenched shut tightly. He had never seen her in anything that didn't cover her up to the neck and down to her forearms. Neruda turned around, and Harry saw that above the neckline of the tank top there was a tattoo on Neruda's chest composed of Greek symbols. Beside him Hermione gasped, and grasped onto the doorframe.

"That word. You're… You're the oracle!"


	8. Of Many Things

Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter, the characters, the settings, and the details are not my own. J.K Rowling holds the rights to these wonderful things, and I am in awe of her talent. I own only my original characters, and of those there are not many.

Chapter Eight: Of Many Things

"Through me forbidden voices, /Voices of sexes and lusts, voices veil'd and I remove the veil, /Voices indecent by me clarified and transfigur'd."-Walt Whitman

Neruda grabbed a sweater off the counter beside the stove, but it was too late to take back Hermione's revelation. She looked at the sweater for a moment, and then put it back down. She turned around and cut off all the stove burners, and a moment later Snape came out of the pantry, his face grim and determined. Harry saw that his gaze was fixed on Hermione, and when Hermione's eyes swiveled to Snape she seemed to realize what had just happened.

Harry had been very careful to tell Hermione only that Neruda had a difficult past, and that Snape was very secretive and protective over it. He had not admitted to her how Snape and Neruda had met, or that Neruda's parents were magical creatures. After the revelation Harry had attempted to put the whole incident out of his mind, and Hermione's epiphany didn't necessarily change that position. Harry wanted to know what this meant, but not at the cost of making Neruda feel less like Snape's cherished daughter. He was about to move in between Snape and Hermione, but found it unnecessary when Snape stopped walking as he reached his daughter. He put the bag in his hand down onto the ground, and put a hand on her shoulder while looking over her head at Hermione.

"You were always too intelligent for your own good Mrs. Weasley. Would I be correct in assuming you will be unable to leave this mystery alone?" Snape's tone was mild, but his eyes warned Hermione that she was on the very edge of his patience. He had somehow managed to resurrect the old imposing professor despite his standing before them in casual trousers and a button up shirt. Harry noticed the hand Snape had on Neruda's shoulder was not the one connected to the Dark Mark, although that would be a more comfortable position.

Hermione took a moment to respond, and when she did she was looking Snape straight in the eye despite his stance. "I no longer think I'm owed answers, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't interested in how you came to have the Oracle as your daughter. Still it's ultimately up to Neruda and yourself what I do or don't know." Hermione's paleness had gone away, and she had the old flush Harry recognized as her "Standing Up To Snape" look. The room remained silent for several moments, and then Neruda gestured to the table and Hermione sat first.

Neruda waited for Snape to sit and then took the seat beside him. She didn't speak for several moments and she looked only at the tabletop. Harry saw Snape had placed his hand gently on her back, and that it was that motion that spurred her voice to action. "Harry knows some of this, and I suppose as his friend you can know parts of it as well. My biological parents were killed during the war by Death Eaters. It was father that saved me from a worse fate than them, and father that healed me after the Death Eater's torture sessions. My mother was the Oracle before me, and as you probably know the title is passed from mother to daughter through the family line. My older sister took after our dad, but when I was born I had the mark. In our family it's understood that the daughter with the mark will come fully into her abilities after her mother has passed away. In this way the title of Oracle is passed from generation to generation."

Neruda shifted slightly in her chair, and gripped her hands tightly together in front of her on the table. "The Death Eaters wanted something specific. I'm not sure what, but it wasn't just the telling of fortunes. The medium in which the fortunes are told is decided by the genetics passed down from the father's side. My mother's dad was a Muggle, so her predictions were made by spoken word. My biological dad was a siren, so mine are made by song. Cassie was…"

Neruda had stopped, and for a moment Harry hoped she wouldn't continue. Hermione's face had paled again, and she leaned forward and touched Neruda's hand. She pulled back when Neruda recoiled, and for a moment Neruda's face was white as a sheet and full of fear. She gained control of herself, and despite Snape's tight look she continued. "My older sister Cassie could manipulate emotions the way my father could, but I only had a small amount of that ability. My gift for seeing the future on the other hand was much stronger than my mother's, even before her passing. I don't think they knew that, and I know they didn't just want my oracular abilities. Whatever they were looking for Harry killed Voldemort before he could get it."

Neruda's eyes lifted and met Hermione's, and a fire blazed there that Harry had never seen before. "My family died because of something they thought I could do. I may not know what they wanted but I know no one can ever have it. I understand that you're Harry's friend and he trusts you, but you can't tell anyone what I am. Not even Mr. Weasley. You have to keep this a secret Mrs. Weasley. Do you understand?"

For several moments Hermione was quiet, but when she finally spoke it was with the same old determination Harry knew as typically hers. "I'll never tell anyone. I promise."

Snape visibly relaxed, and Neruda gave Hermione a small smile. Snape squeezed Neruda's shoulder, and when she made eye contact with him he said in a firm voice, "Go upstairs and get showered and dressed. I'll finish breakfast, and after the Weasleys leave we'll open presents."

Neruda stood and put her sweater on before leaving the room. After she was gone Snape stood up and started the burners again. "Mrs. Weasley it should go without saying that we appreciate your ability to keep this quiet. My daughter's life has been difficult enough without the addition of more people trying to get at her for her abilities. If you would like to ask your remaining questions I suggest you do so now."

Harry's eyes tracked between Hermione and Snape for a moment, before settling on Hermione. Her eyes were fixed on Snape's back when she spoke, and there was no trace of defiance or disrespect in her voice. Instead she simply seemed perplexed. "I just don't understand how a member of the Delphic line couldn't see such a tragedy coming their way? I know she wasn't fully developed, but her mother was."

Snape's hands remained busy moving from skillet to skillet, and for a moment despite his offer Harry thought he wouldn't answer. "You know traditionally that the Delphic Oracles were allowed to live their days out in the Temple of Apollo on Delphi?"

Hermione nodded, then seemed to realize Snape couldn't see that so she verbally acknowledged his statement.

"There is of course a reason for that. If the Oracle was isolated she had no contact with the lives of her petitioners other than their trip to Delphi to find answers. The Oracle's flaw is that she cannot see her own future. The people knew that, and so they stayed away from the Oracles."

Hermione's eyes took on the look Harry knew so well from school, as her mind raced ahead with Snape's information. She sat up a little straighter. "So if they took one of the Oracles her life would be entwined with theirs. She wouldn't be able to see any part of the future she was involved in. Neruda's mother couldn't see the threat against her family because she was so involved. But if that's the case, then by taking her the Death Eaters were chancing that Neruda wouldn't be able to see their future. Why would they do that?"

Snape finished breakfast and began to move it to serving platters. "I do not know. I was not involved in any of their plans regarding her other than to piece her back together after the initial torture. There was not enough time to find out their plans. I imagine they were working on something that her mother would have understood, but whatever it was she had not told her daughter. It may be an aspect of her power that even Neruda does not understand. She knows much of her family's history from her mother's lessons, but there is quite a bit she was never told."

Snape levitated the plates into the dining room, and then turned to Hermione. 'Whatever it was they never achieved it. Any remaining Death Eaters may know those plans, but if they find her they will be stopped before they are capable of doing anything with them. I imagine you were planning on skipping breakfast. May I suggest," and here Snape lifted the bag from the floor and placed it in front of Hermione, "that you open your Christmas present Mrs. Weasley."

"You didn't have to get me anything, and you could call me Hermione. If you wanted to of course." Hermione opened the bag and looked inside. She lifted out a vial and then opened the cork to smell it. A look of confusion crossed her face, and then her eyes traveled up to Snape. "But, I was told that anti-nausea potions were too dangerous. The ingredients aren't good for the baby."

Snape nodded once and Harry caught the hint of a smile within his dark eyes. "That is true of traditional anti-nausea potions. These are brewed without those herbs. I have added a great deal of mint and raspberry leaf, along with a minor amount of Black Horehound and ginger. The combination is easier on the developing fetus, but ultimately less potent. It will stave off attacks, but will do little to end them if you are in the middle of one. Perhaps you should take one, and then go wake your husband….Hermione."

The look on Hermione's face was a mixture of shock and amazement. She drank one of the vials, capped it, and returned it to the bag. She stood, and clutching the present to her chest she said, "Thank you professor. I'm incredibly grateful. I'll go wake Ron."

Hermione slipped through the door, and Snape waited till she had been gone several seconds before he said, without turning to look at Harry, "I know that was not your fault. I know you also told her nothing of what you had already known. You have been very quiet Potter. Ask your questions now."

Harry's fist tightened on the kitchen table again as he remembered the sight of Neruda's bare skin, and the way she had jumped at Hermione's touch. He had never seen her do that, but he realized no one other than he and Snape had ever touched her in his presence. "Why can't she say who hurt her? Why can't we hurt them back?"

Snape's shoulders slumped, and he sat down beside Harry. He was silent for several moments, and his eyes focused on Harry's clenched fist as he thought over the answer. "I have tried everything I could to get the memories from her, but I have been unable. Whatever he did to her, he covered his tracks within her memories well. Eventually I had to give up. She could remember the pain, she relived it over and over again, but she could not see a face."

Snape reached out slowly, and for a moment Harry thought he was going to say something as well, but instead he silently touched Harry's fist. His long fingers smoothed the lines of Harry's fingers till Harry let his grip go. Then Snape continued to trace Harry's hand, his fingers ghosting over the old scar from Umbridge, and his brow furrowing as he touched it. Slowly, without looking at Harry's face, Snape laid his hand over Harry's own. Harry was sure the next move would be to intertwine their fingers, and the look on Snape's face was one of extreme scientific distance. As Snape's fingers began to pull in the door gave a warning squeak, and Snape was suddenly standing and moving towards the fridge.

Hermione stuck her head inside the door smiling, "Ron's up, and I found Neruda standing in the dining room door. Let's eat!"

Author's Note: Once again thank you all for the reviews. I know I'm taking great liberties with both the timeline of Deathly Hallows, namely in how much time Snape would have had after leaving Hogwarts and the final battle, and the way relationships stood at the end of that novel. Ultimately the idea was that Snape was still in contact with the staff because of his part-time teaching, and that through them he could have found Luna and Neville. Hope you enjoyed, and that you'll continue to enjoy as the story moves forward.


	9. The Joy of Complications

Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter, the characters, the settings, and the details are not my own. J.K Rowling holds the rights to these wonderful things, and I am in awe of her talent. I own only my original characters, and of those there are not many.

Chapter Nine: The Joy of Complications

"You know the great thing, though, is that change can be so constant you don't even feel the difference until there is one. It can be so slow that you don't even notice that your life is better or worse, until it is. Or it can just blow you away, make you something different in an instant."-George Monroe

Breakfast took forever, and Harry seemed to move between being entirely relaxed and completely on edge. He couldn't stop himself from looking constantly to see if Neruda was alright. His goodbyes to Hermione and Ron seemed long and drawn out, and he found himself relieved when they had left. Neruda spent the morning acting like nothing had happened in the kitchen, and taking a large number of photographs on a camera that seemed too big for her. Before they left for good Neruda asked Hermione to take a picture of herself, Harry, and Snape together. Hermione did so with a giant grin.

Neruda's excitement at the presents sitting in front of her was completely keeping with her actual age, and it did Harry's heart a world of good to see it. She flitted back and forth from the tree to Harry to Snape dropping presents off in front of them, till everything had been properly dispersed. Once everyone had gifts in front of them she sat behind her pile and bounced in place waiting for someone to announce the moment when opening would begin.

Snape watched her for several moments and Harry felt a strange stir in his stomach as a smile spread across Snape's face before the man in question finally stated, "Alright. Open them."

Neruda began the process of unwrapping. Harry had dropped gifts for both of them in front of the tree when he came back down from his room after breakfast, and he was pleased to see she began with one of his gifts. Her squeals of delight over the silver blackbird necklace she found in the first gift were another lesson for him in the joy being a temporary part of this small family could give. When Neruda was done unwrapping everything she sat with a tidy pile of paper to one side and a pile of treasures to the other. Her eyes shone with delight as she ran fingers over a leather tome of Alexandre Dumas's _Count of Monte Cristo_.

Snape had waited till she finished to stand up and leave the room without a word. When he returned he placed a hard guitar case on the floor in front of her, and Neruda's smile disappeared instantly. Her face took on a look of awe, and when she opened the case to reveal a black guitar with a pickguard engraved with hummingbirds she didn't speak for several moments, simply running her fingers along the smooth wood and the metal strings. When she looked up tears shone in her eyes. Her arms went around Snape, and she cried with pleasure as she hugged him tightly. When she'd regained her composure she sat behind the guitar, fingers idly stroking it as she stated "It's time for you two to open your gifts."

Harry looked at Snape, and Snape nodded to him first. Harry's gifts from home had been moved here, and he went through the motions of opening the yearly Weasley sweater, the book from Hermione, and the rare micro-brewed beer Ron knew he loved so much. When he had finished those he saw that both Snape and Neruda had gotten him something. He opened Snape's first, noting the man's carefully controlled expression as he did so. Sitting in his hands were a stack of pages, and Harry's sense of wonder and incredulity increased as he began to read them. He had been telling Snape over the last few weeks that he was stuck for an ending to his new novel. Ralston's character had tasted humanity, but in doing so Harry couldn't figure out what to do with him. Here was an answer, but Harry wasn't sure he understood it. He looked up and caught Snape's eyes.

For his part, Snape had a tightness to him that suggested he fully expected Harry to hate the present, and everything it suggested. His voice, when it came, was carefully modulated to be as neutral as possible. "I was thinking that it was time for Ralston to die. It would make room for a new character, and a new direction." Harry noticed that Snape's hands were held at his sides rigidly straight and trying to hide his nervousness. At first Harry couldn't speak, and then he cleared his throat.

"This is…this is brilliant. Thank you." Harry got the implications behind it, and he was so grateful he couldn't quite wrap his head around it. Snape had understood something about Ralston Harry had never been able to put into words. Namely that the character was the image of himself that society held, and the Harry Potter that had never existed. That Harry, Harry who could conquer anything, had tortured the real Harry since he had begun to write. He hated Ralston, he had always hated Ralston. It was a meaningless concept, and Harry couldn't have explained it to Hermione if he had tried when she sent it in to be published. The pressure of fan mail had kept Ralston alive the way the pressure of his public image had kept Harry in hiding. To kill Ralston was to destroy the remaining bits of The-Boy-Who-lived.

Harry put the pages down carefully next to his chair, and then lifted the gift from Neruda. She was still stroking the guitar strings as she watched him unwrap the small box. Inside Harry saw only a key, painted gold and nestled in a bunch of blue tissue paper. Along the smooth head of the key she had painted in tiny letters "The Key To Heaven". Harry simply stared at it. After what seemed like an hour of silence he looked up. Snape was staring at the key, and his face was impassive but his eyes suggested the beginning of a smirk. So she had gained permission for this. Harry stood up, and went to the front door settling the key into the deadbolt and turning it. It turned smoothly. He turned around to see father and daughter had followed him into the hall. There was more silence as he watched their expressions, Neruda's was barely contained joy, but Snape's was simply consideration.

Neruda broke the silence, "Father and I thought you should be more formally invited. To stay. Whenever you like. With us."

Harry moved quickly down the hallway, and grabbed her up against him in a brief and intense hug. She hugged him back, and when he released her and put her back down he turned without a thought and hugged Snape as well. It was after his arms encircled the man that he realized what he was doing. Snape's body was one long length of tightly coiled muscles, and for a moment Snape simply stood there. Then his right arm lifted almost hesitantly and he wrapped it once around Harry's shoulders, giving him a brief return hug before stepping backwards.

They returned to the study together, and Snape lifted his gifts from Neruda and Harry. He opened Harry's first, and gifted Harry with a small smile as he lifted the bottle of Ballantine's 30-year-old and read the label. Harry saw the surprise on his face when he realized there was something beneath the Scotch, and he carefully put the bottle beside him as he reached into the box and pulled out the small seed packet. Snape looked up at Harry, then opened the seed packet and looked inside. "Picrorhiza Kurroa Potter?"

Harry smiled at him and nodded. "I looked up herbs that were both rare and useful. This one came highly recommended."

Snape shook his head looking at the seeds, and then looked back up at Potter. "Thank you, it is very thoughtful." Snape placed the seeds in his shirt pocket and then turned to the other present and slowly unwrapped it. Neruda's eyes were moving back and forth between the guitar and Snape's face. He looked inside the gift for several moments, and Harry wondered if he'd share what it was with him or hide it. Eventually Snape seemed to realize his lack of response was odd, and he looked up at Neruda for several more silent moments before clearing his throat and saying, "Thank you. It is a wonderful thought."

Harry raised an eyebrow and Snape tilted the box towards Harry to show him what was inside. It was an empty wooden frame with the words "My Family" carved into the top. Considering the enormous number of framed photographs around the house Harry wasn't sure why this was giving Snape trouble, but he imagined there was a subtext to this frame that he wasn't quite grasping.

After making sure every bit of paper had been cleaned up Snape finally said, "Alright, go ahead and try the guitar out." There was that same small affectionate smile on his face as he watched her rush to the case and lift the guitar out. She spent time tuning it, and then asked what she should play.

Snape seemed to consider the question. Finally he nodded and said, "Something by the Beatles." Neruda cleared her throat, and then went into a rather stunning rendition of "Blackbird". At the end of it Harry and Snape applauded, and she stood carefully and took a bow. She smiled at her father and Harry, and then excused herself to put up her gifts.

Right before she left she removed her sweater, the room was somewhat warm, and asked Harry to fasten on the necklace he had bought her. He did so with hands that only trembled slightly in the face of her scars.

After she had left the room Harry turned to Snape. "Did she ask if she could give a key, or tell you she was going to?"

Snape looked at the wall to the right of Harry's head. "She asked. I took her to get the copy made."

Impulsively, as he had done with the hug, Harry stood and walked over to Snape. He leaned down and slowly, so slowly it almost killed him, he pressed his lips to the older man's. At first Harry thought Snape wouldn't move, but then Snape's hand came up and threaded its way through Harry's hair. He kissed Harry back with a passion that betrayed his clinical expression. Harry closed his eyes and enjoyed the kiss, ignoring Snape's facial detachment. Then he stood, pulling his things together and used the same excuse Neruda had to leave the room.


	10. Experimentation

Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter, the characters, the settings, and the details are not my own. J.K Rowling holds the rights to these wonderful things, and I am in awe of her talent. I own only my original characters, and of those there are not many.

Chapter Ten: Experimentation

"We've all been here before, this is bigger than pro football."-Peter Straub

Neruda was asleep. She had fallen asleep listening to Snape read from the _Count of Monte Cristo_, and Harry watched as her chest slowly rose and fell. Finally Snape nodded to Harry. "I will return shortly." Snape marked his place in the book, put it down, and lifted her to carry her upstairs. A few minutes later he returned and settled back down into the chair. He had refurnished after their fight, and Harry was pleased when he'd seen Snape had bought three chairs instead of two. Now he settled back in his and accepted a glass of the scotch he had gotten Snape for his present.

"Why read her something so depressing on Christmas? Don't you have Christmas stories?"

Snape gave Harry a dry look, and sipped at his drink. "Has it ever occurred to you Potter that she does not request those stories? That they may be a bit childish for her?"

Harry winced. "It wouldn't hurt to treat her like a child more often. She still is one."

Snape smiled, "Try telling her that. See where it gets you. Why did you kiss me?"

"Why did you try to hold my hand?"

"Why did you hug me?"

"Are you still in love with my mother?"

When Snape didn't respond with another question Harry turned towards him. Snape's eyes were somewhere far away, and he sipped his drink slowly before answering. "I will always love Lily. It will just continue to change as the years go on. When she was murdered, I loved her like a desperate young man would. When you appeared at Hogwarts I loved her as a widower would his deceased wife. When I met Neruda I loved her as a memory of a time when I was not so tainted."

Harry waited, but Snape didn't continue. So in the interest of fairness he refilled their glasses and then retook his seat. "I kissed you because I'm interested. In you. I want you. I think."

Snape sipped his drink several times. Without turning to Harry he stated dryly, "Potter I have never been a homosexual."

Harry frowned, "Well neither have I. There's just something…something about you that draws me in. Maybe it's fucked up, no I'm sure it's fucked up. I just don't care anymore."

"I cannot just bring someone into Neruda's life who will leave if we prove…incompatible. You must understand that. She needs stability, and I refuse to throw her life about just to chase pleasure."

Harry didn't look at Snape. Instead he stared into his glass again. "I'm not going anywhere. Whatever happens I like it here. I like it with the two of you. Sex or no sex I want to be here."

Snape finished his drink and stood. He turned to Harry and gave him that small smile. "Well Potter, let us try an experiment shall we?"

Harry stood without a word and followed Snape up the stairs. They entered Snape's bedroom, and Harry looked around nervously. The room wasn't as severe as he would have expected. The walls held pictures both of Snape and Neruda, and exotic landscapes Harry could only sometimes identify. The walls were a dark grey, and Harry's eyes moved from them to the canopied mahogany bed. He swallowed once. Snape simply watched him from across the room.

After the silence had become almost unbearable Harry moved towards Snape, and he watched the man's facial reactions as he leaned upwards and touched their lips together again. The kiss was much as it had been earlier. Harry could feel through the movement of Snape's lip that he was interested, but his face told a different story. Harry closed his eyes tightly, and tilted his head further to the right to get better access to the inside of Snape's mouth.

He felt those long elegant fingers touch first his shoulders, and then slowly slide down his back. When they gripped the hem of Harry's shirt he pulled back for air with his eyes still closed. Snape lifted Harry's shirt over his head, and then spoke for the first time since entering the room. "Open your eyes Potter."

Harry did, and Snape unbuttoned his own shirt, staring into Harry's eyes with that same clinical detachment. Harry watched as Snape uncovered a wealth of scars to his view. The scar across his neck was the most pronounced, but Harry saw a long thin scar that traveled from Snape's collarbone to his navel. Smaller scars dotted his torso, and Harry realized he was holding his breath as Snape slid the shirt completely off his shoulders and dropped it to the floor.

Harry moved forwards, and realized as he did so that his brain was no longer working properly. His body moved entirely on auto-pilot as he leaned forward and ran his fingers along the length of Snape's longest scar. He felt the older man shudder as he mapped out the feel of it with his fingertips. Feeling brave Harry put his tongue to the same path, and made it all the way down to Snape's navel before he looked up. There was that look again, as if Snape was watching a potion brew.

Harry felt his confidence slipping, but he had started this and he'd be damned if he wasn't going to finish it. He unbuckled Snape's belt, standing and watching the man's face as his fingers worked the button and zipper on his trousers. When Snape stood only in his pants Harry stepped back and fumbled with his jeans. Snape leaned forward, and Harry realized his hands were shaking when Snape moved them away from the zipper and undid it himself. Harry had to pull Snape in then, and kiss him while the two kicked off their shoes and moved towards the bed. Harry felt teeth on his lower lips, and he opened his mouth to Snape's plundering as they crashed into the bed.

Was this sex with Snape, or simply an experiment? Harry couldn't tell, and he wasn't sure he wanted the answer. Snape's hands were working down Harry's torso, and he felt those wonderful fingers brush the top of his smalls and then hesitate. Snape leaned upwards and broke the contact of their mouths to watch Harry's face as his fingers slid inside. That same look of detachment was there, but Harry thought he saw something deep in Snape's eyes as the man brushed the head of his cock gently.

The room was completely silent as Snape took Harry in hand, and Harry could only watch Snape's scientific look for the first few moments before the pressure of Snape's hand took all thoughts away. When Snape slid downwards and took Harry in his mouth Harry knew it would be over too quickly. The thought of embarrassing himself in such a way in front of Severus Snape should have at least slowed his orgasm, if not killed his erection entirely, but Harry found himself muffling a shout with his hand as the orgasm came without concern for his pride. Snape pulled back up, and Harry could see that he was erect himself. Instead of asking for reciprocation Snape lay beside Potter quietly and looked up at the ceiling.

Harry reached for Snape's erection, but the man simply said, "Not tonight." Harry lay in silent contemplation of the meaning of that rejection for several minutes. Snape was interested, had to be interested, Harry could see the evidence of that before his eyes. Still Snape had told him no, and Harry was worried that he was having second thoughts regarding the whole thing. Without a word Harry stood, pulled his clothes back on, and moved through the bedroom door and back into his own room.

He stared at the bed there silently, and tried to figure out what had just happened. Snape had approached the encounter with clinical precision, but little passion. Harry knew he had feelings, and he had seen him express more emotions in their brief time building a friendship than he had seen all the years he knew Snape before. The whole thing made no sense, and Harry fell asleep on top of the covers, confused and a little heartsick.

When he rose in the morning Harry washed and dressed mechanically. He imagined Snape would tell him the experiment was a failure, and he didn't want to see that detachment again. Harry couldn't deny that the feel of Snape's strong and sure fingers had been the greatest of his life. Just remembering the feel of Snape's mouth made him hard, and he had to wait at his door till his arousal went away. When he entered the kitchen he found Neruda sitting at the table playing a soft song on her new guitar. Snape was making pancakes, and Harry sat at the table watching him.

The movements were hypnotic, and after a time Harry began to wonder if this was Snape's way of approaching everything that wasn't Neruda. Simple and clinical motions, with no energy wasted on unnecessary actions. He wasn't sure if he should be embarrassed at how he reacted or angry at how Snape had handled the whole thing. He settled on a mixture of both, and after a time Neruda looked up at him as Snape laid breakfast out before them.

He couldn't say anything in front of her, and he watched with affection as she put the guitar carefully in the seat beside her and dug into her pancakes. The breakfast table was silent, and if it hadn't been for the tension between himself and Snape it would have been an incredibly comfortable and domestic scene. After a time Neruda seemed to notice the unspoken weight between the two men, and without prompting she put her dishes in the sink and took her guitar elsewhere. On her way out she laid a kiss on Snape's forehead, and then as an afterthought she came back and put one on Harry's forehead as well.

Harry watched the door swing behind her, and then turned to Snape. He could hear Neruda's guitar begin a slow and sweet tune from the study. "Do you want to tell me the outcome of last night's experiment, or should I guess?"

From the living room Neruda's voice began, and it was a song Harry had never heard before. _"I'm watching you from ramparts, I'm sleeping all alone, I let you in my kingdom, I barred you from my home."_

Snape tilted his head. "What would your guess be Potter?"

"_Can't you see I'm trapped here, Lost inside my walls, Please don't leave so fast dear, I'm only starting to fall."_

"I don't know," Harry exploded standing up but resisting the urge to hit the table in the process, "I can't tell because you won't let me in. I've seen you feel things Snape. I know you can. Why wouldn't you open up last night?"

"_There's no apologies to give you, No sweet words here inside, I've got years of caution to dig through, I can't help it if I lied"_

Snape stood himself. "What did you want Potter? Flowery words and cuddling? I am afraid you chose the wrong man to be interested in. I cannot be that man for you. Are you asking if I wanted more? Yes. I wanted more. I wanted to bury myself inside you, but what would happen if I did? I let you in my home, and my family, and my bedroom, and you still want more. Tell me Potter, what will the consequences be when I disappoint you a second time?"

"_This is not my purpose, I'm sure you know me well, But God I hope it's worth this, Because bleeding for you is Hell."_

Snape's head swiveled to the door, and he went completely pale. Harry followed his gaze, and then uncertainly he said, "What is she singing? What does that mean?"

Snape strode towards the door, and pushed it open. Harry followed his long strides till they reached the study where Neruda sat calmly on the floor. When she looked up Harry stumbled backwards into the doorframe. Her pupils were dilated beyond all reason, and had swallowed the irises around them. She stopped playing the guitar as they stared at her. Carefully Snape knelt down beside her and spoke as if to a spooked horse. "Dearest, what is happening?"

Neruda's eyes stayed locked on Harry as she smiled slowly, and the smile was truly terrible to see. Then her pupils contracted back to a regular size, and she turned to her father. "Are you and Harry done arguing? I'd love to go on a hike today." She stood and left the room. Her legs seemed shaky, but otherwise she seemed normal.

"What the hell was that?" Harry asked, staring at Snape in horror.

Author's Note: Let me explain myself. I have been agonizing over this scene. Literally agonizing. I've had this typed up for days, and yet I was really hesitant to publish it the way it is. I'll be honest with you, I love stories where the first time together is incredible, solves all issues, and cements a relationship that is loving and permanent. I love them because they are completely fictional. I'm not sure about you, but I've found the first time with a new partner is a trial to one's self-esteem. It's usually the first time this person is seeing you naked and you have to keep asking yourself if you're pleasing them, if you like what they're doing, if it's better or worse than previous times, etc., etc. Maybe that's just me. I spent an hour having the most ridiculously awkward conversation with my fiance regarding the male side of this process, and the male side of sex in general. He gave me a lot of great tips, but I think I may have emotionally scarred him a bit. I believe Harry and Severus are strong enough to get past this hiccup, but I won't make you any promises about how they'll do it. I'm always disappointed when Harry is submissive or, forgive me ladies, girly in these stories. I hope he didn't come off that way here. I think that Harry and Severus are both strong men who have hurdles to leap, and I can only hope you're looking forward to seeing if they clear them. Ten points for anyone who gets the quote reference, and knows what the context of it is.


	11. Hallowed Ground

Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter, the characters, the settings, and the details are not my own. J.K Rowling holds the rights to these wonderful things, and I am in awe of her talent. I own only my original characters, and of those there are not many.

Chapter Eleven: Hallowed Ground

"What is the price to be a bargain beggar/ So lonely but always free/ What did you mean when you said it's destructive/ And sank yourself right into me"-Manchester Orchestra "Tony the Tiger"

Snape stared through the doorway quietly. Finally he turned to Harry, and his face was sad and serious. "Sit down Potter. We are going to have a calm discussion now."

Harry moved to a seat without argument, and turned the chair so he was facing Snape. He watched as Snape took a deep breath, settled himself, and then said, "She will not remember the song. I would suggest you do not remind her. That was an oracular fugue state, and it is an occurrence that has not happened in quite some time. She will go to sleep now, and when she awakens she may not remember anything since breakfast."

Harry chewed on that for a moment before responding. "Whose future was she telling?"

"I could not say. Yours, ours, one of those choices. I have seen her in that state once before, and the information is always piecemeal. Her connection to our lives makes it so that she cannot clearly see our future, but she can receive bits and pieces she has no direct part in. I imagine she was receiving the anger we were showing each other, and the fugue descended upon her. Which brings me to the next point Potter. I-"

Harry cut in, "Snape. I'm not going to force you to do anything. If you want to take it slowly I can handle that. I'm not desperately in love with you, and I'm not going to leave if the sex is bad. I just want to see where this could go. Ok?"

Snape closed his eyes and lowered his head. Then he lifted his face up to Harry, and Harry saw all the things he hadn't seen the night before. Uncertainty and fear, and wanting, Harry saw a desire that matched his own written plainly on Snape's face. The older man cleared his throat once, and gruffly he said, "Yes. We will be better prepared and more informed for the next encounter, and I will give it a fair chance."

Harry tilted his head and considered this, "Are you giving me homework?"

Snape laughed.

When Neruda woke Harry and Snape were finishing sandwiches for lunch, and she walked into the room to hear Harry saying tersely, "I just don't see why we had to demote it to a dwarf planet. It's sort of insulting. First we take its title and then we mock its size."

Neruda stopped in the doorway staring at the two of them, and Snape pointed to the table with his knife before returning to slicing a tomato. "Potter. Pluto is an object in space. It does not care what we classify it as. Personifying it is ridiculous."

Harry winked at Neruda, and saw the trembling fear she had entered the room in slowly seep out of her. She managed a small, tremulous smile in response to Harry's wink. Harry finished breaking off a pile of lettuce, and as he placed the remainder back in the crisper drawer he stated, "How would you know? Have you asked it? Is there a spell I am unaware of that allows you to tap into the feelings of poor, abused Pluto?"

Snape's look of incredulity was perfectly priceless, and Harry had to fight to keep his poker face. Neruda broke into giggles, and Snape shot her a look before realization dawned on his face. He cut his eyes once to Potter, and then back to Neruda. "You are both incorrigible."

Harry noticed though that when Snape sat down there was that same controlled little smile of his. The three began layering sandwich ingredients on bread, and the air was lighter than it had ever been.

Neruda rifled through the owl post on the table as they ate, and she pulled one thick envelope out of the pile and smiled broadly at it. "Father, do you have your new frame handy?"

Snape opened the swinging door and summoned it casually, but his eyes darted once to Harry before he handed the frame to her. She opened the envelope, and Harry watched as she pulled a packet of animated pictures out of it. She flipped through them quickly, and when she landed on the one she wanted she pulled it out and carefully placed it into the frame.

Neruda looked up at Harry and turned the frame slowly to show him the photo. "Where should we hang it Harry?"

In the frame Neruda had placed the last shot Hermione had taken before she left. Harry, Neruda, and Snape were linked together, arm in arm. Harry watched his own image as it shifted in place grinning broadly at the camera, his arm around Neruda. In the middle of Snape and Harry Neruda looked back and forth between the two with a broad smile. Snape's image was the one that caught Harry's attention the most, as he watched Snape's eyes cut to the right, taking in Harry and Neruda, before his small grin appeared.

Harry found himself speechless, and he swallowed hard before his eyes met Snape's. "Can we hang it in the study? Next to the one of the two of you at the zoo?"

Snape nodded once, and took another bite of his sandwich while he considered the photo.

After hanging the picture Neruda disappeared for a moment, and returned with a Cluedo box. Harry stared at it in surprise, but Snape let out a sigh of resignation before sitting at the table. Four hours later Harry threw down his pad in disgust and announced he was going to make dinner. He had lost every game to one of the two Snapes, and he was unwilling to lose any more face in front of them.

Neruda offered to help him, and left Snape to clean up the mess they had made playing the game. "It's more fun with three people. Father always insists after one game that we should play something more suited to two players. Like chess. I'm sick of chess."

Harry laughed while he carefully prepared the salmon and poured the oil into the pan.

"Harry," she said tentatively as she washed the vegetables he had handed her to slice, "Mrs. Weasley mentioned that they were hoping you'd stop by the Burrow sometime soon. Do you think you'd be interested in doing that?"

Harry continued to carefully filet the fish, "I think I could now. I think things have changed enough that I'd be comfortable seeing them."

Neruda placed the zucchini and potatoes on the cutting board, and began to carefully chop the potatoes for the mash. "Will you tell them about us? Father and I?"

Harry glanced at her, but she was looking only at her vegetables, and Harry saw the line of tension in her shoulders. "Of course I will. Why wouldn't I?"

Neruda still didn't look at him. "Well it's just…I know Father's reputation with them, and I know that I have many moments where I'm strange. If you were embarrassed it would be ok. I wouldn't blame you."

Harry laid the prepared filets down beside the pan, and placed a hand on her shoulder. She looked up, but not around. "I am very proud that the two of you have invited me to be part of this family. I like both of you a great deal. The Weasleys don't hold Snape accountable for George's ear. They know it was an accident, and they're not the type of people to hold grudges. If anything they'll be angrier with me for being gone so long. Either way, I'd never be ashamed of you, or your father."

He felt the tension leave her shoulders as she nodded and went back to chopping.

Harry carefully placed the salmon in the hot oil, and then he turned as the bottoms cooked to look at Neruda thoughtfully. "Can I ask what exactly it was that you saw that made you so sure your father and I would get along? How that worked around your restriction?" What Harry really wanted to ask about was the vision she had had earlier, and what the song had meant, but Snape had said it was better not to remind her. Whatever she had originally seen to invite him to dinner it was a vision she both remembered and was unfazed by.

"I can see things that don't necessarily include me. They're choppy, and unsure sometimes, but they still have weight and import. I saw the two of you laughing together. In all the time I've known father he's never been close enough to someone to let himself go like that. I was very excited at the prospect of him having a friend who could put him at so much ease."

Harry didn't know if he should smile or frown. She had seen them being friends? Did that mean their attempt at a more intimate relationship was doomed? Or had she just been unable to see that much? He considered this a bit, before asking carefully, "So you wanted me to come so your father could have a friend?"

Neruda looked up from her vegetable chopping slyly. "Well I also saw you two kissing naked in bed if that's what you're trying to find out."


	12. Private Executions

Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter, the characters, the settings, and the details are not my own. J.K Rowling holds the rights to these wonderful things, and I am in awe of her talent. I own only my original characters, and of those there are not many.

Chapter Twelve: Private Executions

"All these years, all these memories, there was you. You pull me through time." –Tom Creo

The three of them stood silently over the pan full of blackened fish. No one had spoken since Snape entered the kitchen to see Harry and Neruda staring at each other. He had rushed past Harry to grab the pan off the stove and remove it from the heat. Harry, red-faced and slack-jawed, had apparently not noticed the smell of the fish burning behind him.

Snape sighed, "Potter, would you like to explain what happened?"

Harry's mind raced. He couldn't tell Snape what he had just heard, and his blush returned as he even considered such an act. Finally he swallowed, and in a gruff voice he responded, "I got distracted."

Snape's eyes cut to Harry, and he raised an eyebrow. "Distracted Potter? A pan full of hot grease behind you and you were distracted? By what?"

Neruda placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, and gave Snape the strangest look of reproach and amusement Harry had ever seen. "Father, people get distracted. Don't make Harry feel bad. We should all just get dressed and go out. How about Roberto's?"

With that Neruda swept out of the room without looking over her shoulder. Harry squinted after her, and in the silence she left behind he felt a strange sense of having been deftly maneuvered.

"Potter, did she say something to distract you?"

Harry nodded.

"Did she wait until you after you had put the fish in the pan?"

Harry nodded again, his sense of being manipulated now fully realized.

"Yes well," Snape cleared his throat, "these things happen."

When Harry looked at Snape he saw that the man was fighting hard to not laugh openly. His eyes were on Harry as he picked up the now cool pan. Harry watched him scrape the fish into the bin, and then with that same obvious struggle Snape said, "Potter you should wash up too. You smell like burnt fish."

Harry shook his head and went upstairs to shower and change. He had been played, and quite beautifully, by Neruda's ploy. He wanted to be upset by it, after all he shouldn't encourage her to be sneaky and sly, but he found himself absurdly pleased at the turn of events. It was the first time he had been a duped parent.

That thought stilled Harry's hand as he washed himself. A duped parent. He couldn't let himself get too attached to her in that sense. She had one father, and she didn't need Harry inserting himself as a second one. He couldn't assume that role he had to be given it, but now that he had experienced it he wanted it. Wanted it in a way that was almost painful. He went back to soaping his hair, and thought about what she'd said. It didn't necessarily promise that he and Snape were compatible, but it did suggest that they would try their little experiment a second time.

When Harry arrived downstairs in trousers and a button-up shirt Neruda was already waiting. She had on another long-sleeved dress, like the one he had first seen her in, and her long hair was pinned up artfully. She was smiling broadly, and when Harry came to her side she tried to look a little more serious at him. She failed miserably. Harry couldn't even playfully scold her. That smile was just for him, and he didn't seem capable of resenting it at all.

Harry turned at the sound of Snape's steps on the stairs, and stared at the older man openly. Snape wore a burgundy turtleneck that covered his scar, but hugged his long lean torso. His hair was pulled back in a thong, and he looked threatening and delicious all at once. Harry felt a resurgence of the desire he had been experiencing since first hearing Snape's voice without his customary derision. Snape looked Harry up and down, nodded his approval, and gestured towards the front door.

The three of them walked to the edge of the wards, and Snape gave apparating instructions to Harry, before taking Neruda's arm and disappearing with a pop. When Harry arrived on the spot in Liskeard he found Snape and Neruda waiting for him. The three of them stepped out into the Muggle traffic, and Neruda turned right so quickly she was almost pulling her father along. She turned long enough to grab Harry with her other arm. They headed down the street, past a mixture of Victorian shop fronts and modern ones till they reached a small Italian restaurant.

The Maitre d' greeted Snape and Neruda with a broad smile, as the Starks, and led them to a table in the back corner. Harry had been surprised when Snape didn't insist on glamours, but Snape's caution seemed to still be intact as he took the seat in the corner where he could watch the whole room. The waiter knew the two, and exclaimed over the addition of Harry to their usual party. Snape ordered starters, and Harry looked over the menu as Neruda chatted excitably about her favorite dishes.

For an hour they were the average family, eating together at a restaurant. Neruda and Harry tried each other's dishes, and then Harry stole a forkful of Snape's veal with a cheeky grin. After dessert and paying the check Snape led them out the door and into the street. They walked arm in arm again through the scenic village till they reached the alley, and then they headed home.

The lights were on in the living room, and Harry watched as the smile disappeared off Snape's face and his wand came out. He pushed Neruda gently to Harry, and then gave Harry a look of warning before moving silently through the snow to the back of the house. Harry had drawn his wand at the same time as Snape, and now he stood on high alert with his arm around Neruda. She was rigid in the circle of his arm, and he wanted to comfort her but he was worried about speaking. After several tense minutes the front door opened and Snape gestured for them to come in. Harry's wand stayed out.

When Harry stepped through the front door with Neruda behind him he saw the culprits standing in the hall. His tension didn't ease. Looking as if they had made themselves at home Lucius and Draco Malfoy stared openly at Harry. Draco spoke first, "Uncle Severus what in the bloody hell is Harry Potter doing here?"

Snape frowned. "Neruda take off your jacket and head upstairs. I will be up in a few minutes to tuck you in. Lucius, Draco, please wait in the study."

The Malfoys swept forward into the study. Harry turned to look at Neruda, and saw that she was rigid with anger as placed her coat on the hook and headed past Harry and Snape without a word to go to her room. Snape watched her carefully and then turned to Harry. "You do not have to join this conversation if you wish otherwise. I am sure she would be glad for the company."

Harry appraised Snape for a moment before hanging up his coat. "No I'll come with you. She didn't look like she wanted to be followed."

The two of them went into the study, where Harry was incensed to see that Lucius had helped himself to the Snape's Christmas gift. Lucius looked over his glass with a cool smile, "I'm surprised and hurt Severus. I thought the girl had a moratorium on visitors during the holidays. Here I find you're gallivanting around with none other than Harry Potter."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "You know very well that her name is Neruda."

The two stared silently at each other as Draco glared disdainfully at Harry. For Harry's part he simply stood as stiff as a pole in the middle of the room watching Lucius Malfoy enjoy the Scotch he had so carefully picked for Snape. It had only raised his opinion of Neruda that she seemed to hate these two.

Finally Lucius drawled out, "I'm sorry Severus. You know my opinion on the whole thing. Draco and I only came to wish the two of you a Happy Christmas, and to give you presents." Lucius gestured to Draco, who pulled two wrapped gifts out of his pocket and held them out to Snape.

At first Harry thought Snape would refuse them, but he crossed the room and took them carefully. "Thank you Lucius, Draco, I am sure Neruda will be grateful as well. I will visit Malfoy Manor in a few days times, as I usually do, but for now I must ask you to leave. Neruda is very specific about Christmas visitors."

Lucius and Draco both stood, and Harry could see Draco was itching to say something, but holding it back. Snape escorted them to the door and shook both their hands. As soon as they had left Snape passed Harry and went upstairs to Neruda's door. He knocked on it twice before opening it. Harry had followed him, and he watched as Snape gave Neruda the gift with a thoughtful look on his face. She stared at it silently, and then with reproach in her voice she said, "Do I have to keep it?"

Snape sighed, sat down on the bed beside her, and gently took the box from her. He unwrapped it to find a set of filigreed silver hair combs, and he showed them to her with a patient look on his face. Neruda glanced at them once, and then turned away.

"I'd rather not. They're gaudy." She pulled her blankets back, and slid underneath them without another word, closing her eyes and feigning sleep. Harry was flabbergasted. It was the youngest she had ever acted, and he couldn't quite figure out why she was behaving like this. Snape stood up and laid the combs on the night-table beside her before leaving the room. She looked at Harry with wide dark eyes from underneath her blankets as soon as Snape had left the room.

"They ruin everything Harry. From top to bottom, with no remorse or concern, they ruin everything. He always tries to control my hair."

With that statement she closed her eyes again. Harry bent down and gently kissed her forehead before heading out the door and turning off the light. When he reached Snape's bedroom he found the man sitting on his own bed and staring at the gift the Malfoys had left him. He looked up at Harry calmly, before opening the box he had already unwrapped. Harry spied the cufflinks from across the room. Snape still hadn't spoken five minutes later when Harry sat beside him on the bed.

"She overheard Lucius telling me I should not keep her. He was concerned that I was replacing my obligations as a spy to become a father, and wanted me to taste 'freedom'."

Harry stayed silent, knowing that if he spoke it would be a harsh criticism that Snape didn't need to hear. Instead he put his hand on Snape's shoulder and waited.

"He does not understand how I can enjoy raising someone else's child, and I cannot explain it to him. Lucius is my only remaining friend from childhood, but if he upsets her again in this way I will have to rid myself of him. The harm outweighs the good."

Harry continued to wait silently, and finally Snape pushed the cufflinks box and the paper off the bed onto the floor. Then he turned to Harry and stared at him intensely for what seemed an eternity. Snape's long fingers moved up Harry's face slowly, and then he threaded them through Harry's messy hair and pulled him into a deep kiss.

"I do not know what this is Harry, but I do want it. It's the second best thing in my life at the moment."


	13. That Old Familiar Sound

Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter, the characters, the settings, and the details are not my own. J.K Rowling holds the rights to these wonderful things, and I am in awe of her talent. I own only my original characters, and of those there are not many.

Chapter Thirteen: That Old Familiar Sound

"I hope if there is another world, we will not be judged too harshly for the things we did wrong here-that we will at least be forgiven for the mistakes we made out of love."-Joe Hill

Harry woke alone in his own bed, with a vivid memory of kissing Snape till he was as hard as steel. He had insisted that he go to sleep alone. He was regretting that idea now, but at the time Snape had seemed grateful. He headed down to the kitchen, and was greeted by Snape making breakfast while Neruda sat quietly at the table reading her book.

Breakfast went by quickly, and Neruda enlisted Snape to go outside and play in the snow with her while Harry stayed in. It was time to incorporate Snape's ending into Ralston's last novel. When he finished the two were coming back inside, red-cheeked and in high spirits. Neruda offered to make something for lunch, and Snape went upstairs to wash up and change. Harry used this time to do a little research.

He had never considered the act of sex with another man, but the websites were plentiful. It took a little while to find one that was just information, and once he had he settled back and began to read. When Neruda came in he closed the laptop guiltily and smiled at her. She tilted her head and gave him a puzzled look.

"Lunch is ready Harry. Did you finish your book?"

He wasn't sure if she was playing ignorant or if she really didn't know. He chose to believe she didn't, and smiled too broadly. "Just about. Let's eat."

Neruda and Snape discussed the shopping list while they ate, and Harry watched them playfully disagreeing about future meals as Snape scribbled out ingredients on the list. Harry was amazed at how quickly he had come to take this for granted, the feeling of being in this little family unit. He wondered if the key allowed him to move things from his flat to Snape's house. Maybe he would just never leave.

Harry went with Neruda into town for the shopping, and while she was looking in the bookstore he slid across the street to the druggist and purchased supplies. The old woman behind the counter peered at him, but he deflected all potential conversation and once outside the shop he shrunk his purchases and hid them in his pocket. Neruda rejoined him with a smile, and they headed for the grocery.

When the two returned to the house Snape was sitting in a chair looking at Harry's laptop. He raised one eyebrow, and Harry resisted the urge to blush and raised one back. Snape was obviously pleased. Neruda insisted she had to begin the stew so it would be ready for dinner, and disappeared into the kitchen. Harry sat beside Snape, and looked at the screen with him. There was silence between the two, and then quietly Snape asked, "Did you buy anything special Potter?"

Harry nodded, a smile spreading across his face. Then he pointed at the screen and said, "I think I'll start here tonight, and you can try it afterwards."

"Is that so? What exactly makes you think I would be a bottom Potter?"

Harry shook his head, his grin widening, "I thought we'd take turns. One of us had to be brave enough to choose a position first."

Snape closed the laptop and put it on the table in front of him. "We will see Potter."

Harry watched as Neruda talked a mile a minute about the plot of her book. It sat beside her on the table, and every now and then Snape would remind her not to talk while eating, or to slow down, always with a smile on his face. As she gestured passionately discussing the Count's latest move towards his goal of vengeance Harry watched a section of her long hair slowly making its way over her shoulder and towards her stew bowl. He reached out with one hand and casually tucked it behind her ear again. She stopped talking.

Harry wasn't sure for the first few seconds if he had made a mistake, till Neruda's face broke into an uncontrollably large grin, and she began chattering again as if nothing had happened. When Harry looked at Snape he saw desire and affection before Snape slid his face back into control and turned back to Neruda. Harry knew he had passed some hurdle, but he wasn't sure which one.

After dinner Neruda went straight to the study and her book. A firecall came in, and Harry watched as the bartender from _Je Reviens_ explained to Snape that the act they had previously booked for New Year's Eve had canceled at the last moment, and he was desperate to replace them. Snape sent one glance at Neruda's eager face, and told Rothgow that Neruda was more than willing to play that night. Harry got the first of her excited hugs and Snape got the second one after he had terminated the call. She left to contact the other band members.

Snape shot Harry a look of amusement, and Harry returned it gladly. When Neruda returned she was bubbling over about the show, and she couldn't seem to sit still for more than a minute or two. Snape had to escort her to bed, and he read to her for a short period of time before returning to the study where Harry waited for him with their drinks already poured. They sat silently sipping for several minutes before Snape suggested they go to bed as well.

Harry made it all the way up the stairs, and was passing Snape's room when the hand grabbed his wrist. He was spun into the bedroom, and found himself pressed against a wall with Snape's thin lips slanting over his before he was sure what was happening. He gave into the kiss, and his hands roamed down over Snape's lean body till he found the buttons at the bottom of his shirt and began to work his way up. They kissed their way through stripping, and then Harry remembered to pull the lube and condoms from his pocket before he lost his pants, and waved his hand casually returning them to regular size. Snape looked at them for a moment before going back to the task of removing Harry's jeans.

They landed on the bed, and Harry found himself hard and straining, trying to remember the exact steps he had read that morning. His hand fumbled across the bed for where he had thrown the lube, and when he found it he fought to open the bottle one handed, his other hand busy in Snape's hair. Eventually he got the bottle open, but when he squeezed it nothing came out. He stopped kissing Snape to glare balefully at the bottle as it refused to cooperate with him.

Snape watched Harry struggle with the bottle, and then balanced carefully on his hip reaching out casually and taking the bottle from him, unscrewing the cap without a word, and removing the foil cover before screwing the cap back on. He gave Harry the smuggest look he had ever seen, and Harry pushed him over onto his back and slid down the bed to the older man's erection. He stared at it for a moment, and then carefully coated his fingers in lube while leaning forward to lick Snape's member. He heard a throaty velvet moan as he silently repeated each step in his head, his fingers moving carefully forward.

He watched Snape's face as he stretched him, and was concerned to see that the man looked less desirous and more displeased than he had expected. "Do you want me to stop?"

Snape shook his head and spoke in a voice that made Harry shiver, "We knew it would have difficult parts Potter. Make it worth it."

Harry leaned forward and carefully took Snape into his mouth. He was pleased to note the moaning returned, and Harry took his time finding the places that made Snape release those moans as he slowly added fingers. Eventually Snape tugged on Harry's hair, and when Harry looked up Snape cleared his throat, "I will not last much longer Harry. I am fully prepared."

Harry nodded, swallowed back his nerves, and fumbled with a condom. When he finally got it on and lubed, he looked up at Snape again for confirmation, and watched as the man rolled over and assumed the position the site had recommended for the first time. Harry closed his eyes, said a silent prayer that he would get this right, and moved forwards.

Harry didn't realize his hands were shaking till he missed the mark, and Snape barked harshly at him. Harry grunted out an apology, and then tried again. The first bit of entrance was a moment that redefined Harry's entire world, and he listened to Snape's hiss of pain with a distant concern. He moved slowly, allowing time for adjustment, but eventually he made it all the way in. He reached underneath Snape and took his wilted erection in one lubed hand before he began to stroke carefully. It didn't take long for Snape to relax, to harden again, and to order Harry to move.

The time from Harry's first thrust to Snape's orgasm would later be recalled in a daze, and when Harry rocketed over the edge of orgasm he knew all he would remember were bits and pieces. The look of Snape's back muscles tensing and releasing, the sound of Snape's moans mixed with his, the smell of musk and sweat, and the way Snape had cried out Harry's name, his first name, as he came in Harry's hand.

Snape went into the bathroom, and Harry collapsed on the bed. He hadn't realized he was dozing till Snape came back out and slapped his hip gently. "Harry if you are planning on staying in here you will be washed."

Harry nodded, fumbled his way through a short shower, and returned to the bed where Snape was already under the covers. Harry joined him, and the two lay beside each other silently. Harry wasn't sure Snape was asleep, but he cautiously said, "Snape?"

"Call me Severus," the voice grumbled from the pillow beside him, "you were, after all, just inside me."

Harry couldn't help his grin, and while Snape, no Severus, couldn't see it he was sure to have heard it. "Severus, I think I'm gay."

When Harry woke in the morning he found himself entwined with Severus, and he tried very hard to not move. He felt the man wake beside him, and stiffen before slowly releasing Harry and rolling away. He watched Severus walk slowly into the bathroom, and then got up to collect his clothes. When he slipped out into the hallway Neruda was coming out of her own room rubbing her eyes. She froze at the same time as Harry. They stared at each other silently, Harry mortified beyond belief despite her vision, Neruda with a strange look on her face. Harry fell backwards into the wall when she began to squeal.


	14. The Pain of Recollection

Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter, the characters, the settings, and the details are not my own. J.K Rowling holds the rights to these wonderful things, and I am in awe of her talent. I own only my original characters, and of those there are not many.

Chapter Fourteen: The Pain of Recollection

"For the happy man prayer is only a jumble of words, until the day when sorrow comes to explain to him the sublime language by means of which he speaks to God."- Alexandre Dumas _The Count of Monte Cristo_

Harry was reminded of standing around the pan of blackened fish. The embarrassment was here, but he didn't feel manipulated. He counted that as a positive. He could have spared Severus some of his tension by mentioning that Neruda had already known this would happen. He wasn't sure what kept him silent. He may have been spending too much time with Slytherins.

"Neruda, sometimes when two people are sexually attracted to each other-"

Harry turned to Severus with his mouth gaping open. The older man glanced at him, cleared his throat, and started again.

"Neruda, Harry and I have decided to pursue an adult relationship. Is this an issue?"

Severus shot Harry a look that stated he wanted no more commentary on his handling of the situation, but Harry could barely concentrate on it. He was distracted by the overly elated grin on Neruda's face. She leaned forward and asked breathlessly, "Are you in love?"

Severus shook his head at the same time Harry said no. They glanced at each other, and then back to her. Harry took up the conversation, "It's not an impossibility that it will happen, but at the moment we're just seeing where it could lead. Does that make sense to you?"

Neruda's smile didn't dim a bit. "But if it does will you stay forever? Will you stay with us Harry?"

Harry looked to Severus, lost for words. Severus cleared his throat again, "If Harry decides he would like to do that, and the relationship has reached that point, then the offer would be extended."

Neruda's smile got impossibly wider, and Harry was beginning to worry for the state of her face. "You two need to go on a date. A real date. Without me. That's what people do to fall in love."

Harry was alarmed when Severus began to laugh, and he started to wonder if he was the last sane person in the room. He turned carefully to Neruda and said, "A date? I'm not sure-"

Severus placed his hand on Harry's shoulder, and Harry turned to look at him with caution. The laughter had left his eyes, and he looked incredibly serious. "Would you like to go on a date Harry?"

Harry couldn't help but glance at Neruda, who was nodding her head encouragingly at him. He turned back to Severus, and shook his head in resignation. "I would love to go on a date with you."

Harry had promised to see the Weasleys today, and Severus was planning on putting in his appearance at Malfoy Manor. Harry had just finished getting ready and gone downstairs when the knock came at the door. He opened it to find an auror standing on the other side. The auror looked up from the file he had open in his hand, and raised an eyebrow to see Harry standing in front of him. "Mr. Potter? Is Severus Snape not here?"

Harry stepped back, and cautiously invited the man in. He didn't realize Severus had come up behind him till he heard the silky voice almost in his ear. "This is Hadrian Watts. He's the auror that helped me adopt Neruda. He will be watching her for the day."

Auror Watts stared at the two of them for only a moment before looking past them down the hall. He smiled brightly, and waved the hand not holding the file at Neruda. She looked at him from the base of the steps, and then came forward returning his smile tentatively. She asked, "Is this business too Auror Watts, or simply babysitting?"

Hadrian shook her hand, "A bit of both. Thought I'd get the annual review out of the way. I'll cover your father's portion later."

Neruda's smile dimmed a bit, but she nodded and then turned to Severus and Harry. "The two of you go on. I'm fine with Auror Watts."

Severus nodded and wished them both a pleasant day before heading for the study. Harry followed him, and grabbed his arm before Severus had picked up the floo powder. "She didn't look happy. Can he be trusted?"

Severus gave Harry a look that he hadn't seen in a long time. He gently removed Harry's hand from his bicep. "Harry, I assure you she is perfectly safe with Auror Watts. She simply does not appreciate him questioning my abilities as a father, and despite my reminders that this is his job she finds fault in him for it."

Harry didn't like the idea of leaving Neruda with this man he didn't know, but he couldn't argue with the logic of it. Finally he nodded and stepped back, allowing Severus to throw the powder into the fire.

"It will be fine Harry. I will see both of you tonight. Malfoy Manor."

Harry shot one last look through the doorway, and saw that Neruda and Watts had left the hallway for some deeper part of the house. He gathered up his own handful of floo powder, and threw it in the fire. "The Burrow." He stepped through to the first family he had ever known.

Molly Weasley waited on the other side of the fire, and Harry found himself wrapped in a hug that rivaled even Hagrid's. Molly was crying. Harry felt like a bigger twat than he had on Christmas Eve, and he found himself apologizing profusely even as Molly insisted it was not a problem and squeezed the life out of him. Eventually she released him to Arthur. Harry was led into the kitchen of the reconstructed Burrow, where an incredibly elongated table housed every Weasley Harry knew. There was a flash of the old pain seeing George sitting alone, but Harry swallowed it as quickly as he could.

The sounds of conversation stilled as he entered the room, and then George stood up and stated, "Harry Potter. Finally. Sit down so we can eat!"

Harry found himself merging into the family with little trouble. There was awkwardness between himself and Ginny that he had expected, and he found it hard to be polite to Percy, but the others were all simply glad to see him. Harry found himself apologizing for his absence over and over, but each time the apology was rebuffed. After it seemed that no more food could be shoved into him Molly came out with dessert, and Harry grimly considered the idea of putting more food into his swollen belly.

After dessert the Weasleys began to disperse, and Harry found himself alone with Ron, Hermione, and George in the kitchen. George was telling a story about the latest testing of a Weasley product and Harry found himself laughing so hard he was bent over double. Which was probably the reason he was so unprepared for George's moment of seriousness, when he turned to Harry and asked, "So are you living with Snape now?"

Harry sat up quickly, and saw the blush on Hermione's face, and the surprise on Ron's. He turned to George and considered his options. He didn't know what exactly he and Severus were doing, and he had no idea how the man would feel about his talking about it. He made his decision as quickly as he could.

"Sort of. I got a key for Christmas, and I enjoy it there."

George waggled an eyebrow and leaned in, "Are you shagging Snape?"

Harry choked on his beer. Hermione leaned in and slapped him on the back till he had coughed it all out. George's lascivious smile had disappeared, and he was looking at Harry in shock. Ron's face mirrored this expression. Harry took a deep breath and croaked out, "George-"

"Harry, I'm sorry. I didn't know or else I wouldn't have joked." George interrupted looking mortified. Ron's face was turning the most incredible shade of red, and Hermione was watching Harry very carefully. Harry wanted to flee the room, but he knew it wouldn't solve anything.

"You guys have to keep this quiet. It's not… I don't know what it is right now, but I know we haven't discussed making it public knowledge. We're just testing the waters." Harry realized he was pleading, but he couldn't stop himself. He could envision in his head a hundred different scenarios that all ended with someone saying something to Severus, and Severus throwing him out. Ron went to speak, and Hermione covered his mouth.

"Harry it's great that you've found someone who makes you happy. Ron is going to be very quiet, and after we discuss this he'll have a comment. Until then he's just going to stay quiet." She was glaring at him so hard Ron's mottled coloring went pale, and he nodded slowly. Harry remembered their yearly fight, and saw that without Hermione's interference this would have been it. He nodded at her gratefully, and then stood up.

"I've gotta head back. Neruda's got this babysitter, and I don't want to leave her with him much longer."

George's smile was back, and he touched Harry's hand briefly before asking, "Before you leave Harry just tell me one thing. Is he a top or bottom?"

When Harry stepped through the floo into the study he heard the sound of a guitar coming from the kitchen. He entered the room to find Neruda playing softly with Watts listening. Harry didn't recognize the tune, but when she glanced at him entering he saw her eyes were normal and relaxed. She wrapped it up, and smiled as Watts and Harry applauded softly. Then Watts leaned in, and said seriously, "Neruda I want you to sing a song about the past. Maybe about your sister?"

Harry started to move forward, and then jumped a foot in the air when a hand landed on his shoulder. Severus was standing behind him, and his face was grim. Harry's eyes moved back to Neruda, who was looking at the floor. Watts looked at the two men standing in the door, and said softly, "I wouldn't ask if I didn't think it was important. If the song becomes too much you can stop. Alright?"

Neruda nodded. She tuned the guitar a bit, and then looked cautiously at Harry and Severus. Harry saw Severus nod encouragingly, and was surprised when Neruda waited for his approval as well. Reluctantly he nodded. Neruda began to pick out a haunting melody.

"_The question asked in order, To save her life or take it, The answer no to avoid death, And yes to make it, 'Do you believe in god, Written on the bullet?, Say yes to pull the trigger', And my sister Cassie pulled it._"

Harry closed his eyes. Neruda was weeping, but her voice came out clearly and smoothly. Severus's hand was gripping Harry's shoulder tightly.

"_They didn't love their loves so much as to shrink from death_-"

When the music abruptly stopped Harry opened his eyes, and wiped the tears from his face. Neruda was looking up, and her pupils were dilated but still under control. "I have to stop. I can't stay if I keep going."

Watts leaned in, "What does that mean Neruda? Where would you go?"

Neruda shook her head, and she looked scared, "She'll take over and make me leave. I can't explain." She sounded younger than she ever had, and Harry rushed past Watts and to Neruda pulling her into his arms. She began to weep when he touched her, and he held her tightly as she clung to him and cried into his shoulder. "Cassie died Harry, Cassie killed herself to save me and mom! He made her do that, and then he didn't care!"

Harry shushed her gently, stroking her hair and making soothing noises. His eyes met Severus's, and he saw that the older man was both grief-stricken and furious. Severus turned to Watts. "Auror Watts. May I suggest we finish the interview in the study. Harry will you take her up to bed? I will be there in a moment."

Harry nodded and left the room, carrying Neruda upstairs. When he sat down on her bed and wiped wet hair away from her face he saw that her pupils were normal again. Her crying only got harder when Harry tried to smile at her. "I messed up Harry. I was supposed to show him I could handle it. Now he'll put bad marks in the report. What if they take me away?"

Harry gripped her so tightly that he was afraid he'd hurt her. "No one is taking you anywhere. No one. I'd stop them if your father didn't get them first."

She shook her head against his shoulder, "When do I grow up? When can I stop crying?"

Harry considered this, and then he pulled her back a bit so he could look into her eyes. "It's not a matter of growing up Neruda. I'm an adult and I still cry at the anniversary of every death. You loved them, and they were taken from you. It's natural to cry, and don't let anyone tell you any different. You're safe here, so just let it out."

Neruda clung to him tighter, and cried herself to sleep in his arms. When Severus came up Harry had laid down with her still hugged to him, and he looked up at the man standing in the doorway. Severus came over without a word and sat down on the opposite side of the bed. He removed his shoes and joined the two of them there, wrapping his arms around Harry and Neruda simultaneously. When he spoke his voice was rough and uneven, and Harry thought his heart gave a strange stutter. "Thank you Harry."

They fell asleep like that.

Author's Note: The song is the acoustic version of Flyleaf's "Cassie". This scene was actually the original inspiration for this story. I don't know why it's what I saw when I heard the song. I just did. I would like to clarify, for those that know Flyleaf or the story attached to the song, that I didn't know they were a Christian rock band or the inspiration for the song until I started writing this. Attaching it to Neruda's story was an unfortunate parallel, and that's not the intention behind it. The GRE general test is over, so I'll have more time to work on this. I hope you're still enjoying the story, and I thank all of you again for following or reviewing, or simply sticking with it.


	15. Fatherhood

Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter, the characters, the settings, and the details are not my own. J.K Rowling holds the rights to these wonderful things, and I am in awe of her talent. I own only my original characters, and of those there are not many.

Chapter Fifteen: Fatherhood

"The thing to remember about fathers is... they're men. A girl has to keep it in mind: They are dragon-seekers, bent on improbable rescues. Scratch any father, you find someone chock-full of qualms and romantic terrors, believing change is a threat, like your first shoes with heels on, like your first bicycle..."- Phyllis McGinley

When Harry awoke he saw that Severus was already awake and watching him. Though a series of silent and careful gestures they agreed on leaving, and slowly extricated themselves from the bed and away from Neruda. She stayed deeply asleep through the entire process.

Harry followed Severus downstairs, and was unsurprised when they ended up in the kitchen. He stayed silent while they went about pulling out breakfast ingredients. Finally he could take it no longer, and he found himself grabbing Severus' arm and pulling him bodily towards the table. The lack of struggle surprised him a bit, but he was willing to ignore it to get to the point.

"Who will take over, what actually happened to her family, why did we let the auror put her through that, what did he say, are they going to take her away?" Harry was breathless after the length of the question. Severus looked impressed.

"In backwards order Harry; no, that he thought she was improving, because it is his job. The other two require longer answers. The Death Eaters that took them apparently confiscated a pistol her father tried to use against them. I suppose it was rather impressive to them that a gunshot was useless against a wizard prepared for it. Her father was killed on the spot, and the rest of the family was taken. They would have known instantly that Neruda was the child they wanted, so they tortured all three until the man whose identity I cannot ascertain apparently gave Cassandra, Neruda's older sister, her father's gun. He told her she had a choice, she could kill her mother or her sister. Which did she love more? Cassandra asked him the question Neruda mentioned, about God and the bullet, and he said yes. She shot herself to save her mother and sister."

Severus stopped for a moment, looked at the doorway, sighed, and started again, "I do not know if they had a preference between mother and daughter, but Neruda's mother died during a torture session. Their focus landed exclusively on Neruda. This led to her being brought to me, so that her mother's fate could be avoided. As for your very first question I have asked her the same thing. I believe that as a coping mechanism she has identified her oracular fugues with a different entity. She believes that this entity takes over when she is upset or weak."

Harry frowned, "How do you know that isn't what's happening?"

"She named it Harry. She calls it Aesa." Severus gave him the look Hermione used to give him, when she had imparted some wisdom she expected him to understand without explanation. Harry gave Severus the same blank look he always gave Hermione. His reaction was much like hers had always been. "I forget sometimes who I am speaking to. Aesa is the Latin name for one of the Moirae. The Greek Fates. Those letters on her chest are the original Greek. It translates to Destiny."

Harry continued to stare at him.

Severus took a deep breath, and Harry recognized that he was visibly attempting to not insult him. "Aesa is her real name Harry. The one she was given at birth, as her marking dictated. The oracle is not some other entity it is her."

Harry was speechless, and to cover this up he blurted out the first thing he thought of. "It's a beautiful name." He was rendered beyond speechless when Severus began to laugh.

When the man finally got control of himself he leaned forward, his dark eyes still filled with amusement. "It never ceases to amaze me how you can focus on the least important detail of a conversation."

Harry tried to frown at him, but he was as amused as Severus was. He sobered when Neruda chose that moment to step through the door. She crossed the floor without a word, and sat down in Harry's lap. His eyes moved up to Severus, and he saw that the man was focused entirely upon his daughter. Severus leaned forward and tilted her face up, studying it for a moment. When he spoke his voice was the embodiment of calm, "Are you feeling better this morning?"

She nodded silently. Severus continued to study her, then stood up and went back to fixing breakfast. Neruda leaned back against Harry's chest, and he settled his arms around her while the two watched Severus flip pancakes and turn bacon.

Neruda only left Harry's lap to eat, and when breakfast was over she sat in her father's lap still without a word. He stroked her hair gently as Harry cleared the plates. They wound up in the study, and Severus read her book to her while Harry used the phone to speak to his editor. There was apparently a great deal of concern over the ending of the novel, and Harry assured her he would still be writing after this. He had a new protagonist in mind, and he was sure the fan base would forgive him Ralston's death.

It wasn't until after dinner that evening that Neruda spoke. "We have practice tomorrow. Will you two be alright without me?"

Severus smiled softly. "Yes. I believe Harry and I will go on that date you mentioned while you're gone. You'll remember to eat this time I hope?" She nodded. Harry tucked her in that night, and read to her till she fell asleep. When she was officially out he said goodnight to Severus and headed to his own bed.

The next day Neruda was herself again. She was practically bouncing off the walls when Harry came downstairs to find breakfast already made. Severus came down minutes later to tell the two of them they were inconsiderate to those who wished to sleep in, and Harry and Neruda laughed together at his stern disapproval.

The band members arrived, and Neruda led them outside to a small barn behind the house. Harry looked at Severus for several moments before getting up the courage to ask, "What kind of dress code are we looking at here?"

Severus looked him up and down, and then smirked. "What you are wearing will be fine. We should leave now."

Severus and Harry fell into line with a large group of people heading into a cavern outside St. Neot village. Harry wasn't sure what kind of date including looking at caverns, but he was willing to find out. "I didn't know you were into group nature hikes."

Severus gave him a complicated look, and then they stepped through the entrance. Harry's breath left him for a moment, and when it came back he turned to see Severus smirking at him. "These are the Carnglaze Caverns Harry. This one, called the Rum Store, is occasionally the site of rather unique musical events."

Severus had procured incredible seats, and Harry watched as the group took the stage at the end of the cave. The acoustics were amazing, and he was swept away by his first opera. He couldn't believe the power and beauty of it, and the peculiar way the cavern added to the sounds of the players' voices intrigued him. When it was over he found himself practically babbling as he told Severus how incredible it was.

They headed out of view, and then apparated to Liskeard where Severus led Harry to a quaint little inn, with a welcoming restaurant. After they had ordered Harry studied the man across from him. "What did you want to be when you were little?"

Severus raised an eyebrow, and leaned back in his seat. "I wanted to be the world's most powerful wizard."

Harry almost choked on his beer. He took a deep breath and then looked up again. Severus was smirking. "Really? The world's most powerful wizard? What would you have done with that title?"

Severus calmly appraised Harry for moment. "Harry if we are going to really get to know each other let us make a deal. We will each get one question at a time, and the answer will be as brutally honest as possible. Is this acceptable to you?"

Harry nodded.

"Good, then it is my turn. Did you steal that Gillyweed?"

"You still haven't got past that have you? No, Dobby stole it and gave it to Neville."

At this Severus looked momentarily surprised, and then he chuckled quietly. "How Lucius would rage if he knew exactly how hard his former servant worked to help you."

Harry leaned forward, "What would you have done if you were the world's most powerful wizard?"

"Killed my father, and then restored my mother to sanity. Why did you use _Sectumsempra_ on Draco?"

"He was going to cast _Cruciatus_. I didn't know exactly what it did, but the Half-Blood Prince was very proud of it. When did you stop seeing me as my father?"

"During our Occlumency sessions. James Potter would never have kept abuse like that a secret. Why did you keep my potions book?"

"I liked the Half-Blood Prince. He reminded me of myself, and he became like a friend to me. Hermione was afraid of it, but I knew he was trustworthy. Could you ever love me the way you loved my mother?"

At this Severus flinched. "I… I believe I could love you more than I did Lily. I loved your mother, but I was disappointed in her decisions. I am sure the feeling of disappointment was mutual. Why do you want me to love you?"

Harry considered this for a moment, chewing on his food to cover his nerves. "I have always wanted a family of my own, people to love and trust, and the knowledge that at the end of the day I can come home to them and be accepted for who I really am. After the war I was afraid I could never have that. I'd always wonder if the person with me wanted me, or the hero I was supposed to be. I couldn't relate to anyone, so how was I supposed to have a family unit? All of that changed when I met you and Neruda. I want to be like a dad to her, and I want to be a partner to you. I want the peculiar family unit only the two of you can offer."

Harry didn't look at Severus till he was finished, and when he did he was surprised to find the man had shut his face off completely. Harry's nerves returned with a fierce intensity. He cleared his throat, "Would you like that? To be a family together?"

Severus stared at him in a way he never had before. Harry was almost afraid of the intensity in the man's eyes, and when Snape finally responded his voice was rough and thick, "Yes."

They re-entered the house late that night, and Neruda was asleep on the couch waiting for them. Severus woke her when he lifted her, and he whispered soothingly to her as he carried her to bed. He tucked her in and then led Harry to his room.

His kisses were soft and gentle, and Harry found himself dizzy after just a few moments. He was led to the bed, and gently lowered down. Severus' hands were everywhere, and Harry couldn't find his focus as those long fingers found every sensitive spot on his torso in the process of unbuttoning his shirt. He was panting in seconds, and moaning shortly after that.

When Severus pulled back to remove his jeans Harry was eager to help him, and that strange gentleness continued after Harry was naked. Severus was still dressed, and he shook his head when Harry reached for his shirt. The man's tongue traveled the length of his body, tasting his neck and then his collarbone, working his way down the length of Harry's sides before circling the navel, and then sliding past the groin to dip along his knees. Harry didn't know his ankles were sensitive until Severus licked along the front of one, and then placed an open-mouthed kiss. The sound that came out of his mouth was frightening, and Severus looked up with dark eyes before repeating the process on his other ankle.

When Harry was instructed to roll over he did so without hesitation, and he learned more about his body that he hadn't known. The backs of his knees were both ticklish and erotic. When Severus whispered a spell that scrubbed against Harry's most intimate places he started to turn, and found himself stopped at the long slow lick that followed the scrubbing feeling. He made that rough and desperate sound again and again as Severus explored him. He felt fingers, and the strange burn was soothed by the soft tongue. When the tongue and the fingers disappeared Harry turned to watch Severus fumble off his clothes, and then apply the lubricant as carefully as possible.

Harry was pulled up onto his knees, and then a slick set of fingers circled his cock as a pressure introduced itself to his hole. The pain and pleasure were incredible, and Severus moved so slowly Harry thought he would go insane. When the angling began Harry was confused, and then he felt a surge of pleasure. Severus leaned over his shoulder, and began to whisper hotly in his ear. Harry had trouble listening to the words through the velvet sound of the man's voice.

"That was your prostate Harry. Would you like for me to do it again?"

Harry could only answer with a strangled moan, and Severus angled himself again bringing back that intense burst of pleasure.

"You can stay however long you like Harry." He hit the spot again. "You belong here." He twisted his fingers along the shaft and hit the spot again. Harry was practically screaming. "You were what we were missing. Come for me Harry."

For one of the first times in his life Harry Potter obeyed Severus Snape.

When he woke up the next morning Severus was gone, and Harry got dressed and headed for the kitchen. He knew what he would find. Neruda was sitting in a chair, her face the picture of innocence while Snape made eggs. Harry sat at the table with her and waited. She didn't speak, she simply raised an eyebrow at him, and he nodded softly. She put a hand to her forehead and pantomimed a swoon.

Harry began to laugh, and didn't stop even when Severus turned around and gave them both a look.


	16. Going to the Show

Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter, the characters, the settings, and the details are not my own. J.K Rowling holds the rights to these wonderful things, and I am in awe of her talent. I own only my original characters, and of those there are not many.

Chapter Sixteen: Going to the Show

"Each person who ever was or is or will be has a song. It isn't a song that anybody else wrote. It has its own melody, it has its own words. Very few people get to sing their song. Most of us fear that we cannot do it justice with our voices, or that our words are too foolish or too honest, or too odd. So people live their song instead."- Neil Gaiman _Anansi Boys_

Harry and Ron sat silently beside each other and stared out of the window. Harry traced back through the series of events that led to this particular section of awkwardness in his life. Severus, as if by some form of clairvoyance, had announced his need to brew before the show tonight and then disappeared into his laboratory. Seconds later Hermione and Ron entered through the Floo, and Hermione grabbed up Neruda to go clothes shopping. Harry was left with Ron.

He had silently offered his friend a beer, and the two now sat sipping quietly and staring out at the snow covered trees that edged the yard. They had not spoken a word to each other in the entire time Ron had been there, and Harry wasn't sure if he should prepare for anger or bewilderment. Ron surprised him.

"Mate, listen, it's ok. I think I understand. Just say you're happy?" Ron's face was turned towards the window, but it looked a mixture of hopeful and afraid.

Harry considered for a moment. "Very happy. I am very happy."

"What do you think of the Cannons' chances this year?"

Harry's laugh turned out to be contagious this time.

Harry peeked in on Neruda as she got ready for the show. She had bought a pretty blue dress for the show, and Harry watched as she carefully put on the necklace he had given her. Her eyes caught his in the mirror, and she smiled before she began to slowly apply lipstick. He simply stood in the doorway and watched her, and when she had finished she stood and came to him. The hug she gave him felt so natural he had to consider a time when he wasn't receiving them.

Their arrival at the club was early, and Neruda headed backstage to meet with the band. Harry and Severus took places at the front of the room, and enjoyed the anonymity of glamours as they waited for her to take to the stage. When she did the crowd went insane. She smiled once, and then stepped up to the microphone. "Happy New Year's everybody!" The crowd roared, and then went quiet. "I have a very special song tonight, and I hope you will all enjoy it."

Harry glanced at Severus, and saw that he wasn't sure what to expect either. When Neruda began to sing Harry's attention focused on her with painful intensity.

"_This isn't what I came for, And I'm sure you felt that too, I'm striving for a metaphor, I cannot say these words to you"_

Without any voluntary control Harry felt his hand reaching, and meeting Severus' in the center of the table.

"_But wait and listen for the moment, When I learn the way to say these things, I only care about the present, The future will bring what it brings"_

Harry felt long sure fingers stroke across the inside of his wrist, and he dared a look at the older man. He remembered looking at Ginny one day and being overwhelmed by intensity, desire, and surety. He remembered stumbling through words, flushed faces, and covert kisses. This didn't feel like that at all.

"_We've been wandering through this revelation, We've been flirting with disaster, We've been searching for motivation, And now we're burning faster"_

He wanted to kiss those fingers, and he lifted them and did just that. It was the closest he could come to phrasing the words he wasn't sure he wanted to say. He saw in Severus' eyes that the feeling was shared, and those long fingers traced his lip.

"_Don't go, Don't stay, Don't make me feel this way, Let the future be what it is"_

He released the fingers and watched as they stayed at his lips for a moment, before they moved to recapture his hand. He let his eyes travel back to Neruda, who was grasping the microphone stand and staring out into the crowd with a look of sheer joy.

"_Don't stay, Don't go, Be that person only I know, And just let the future be"_

When the song ended the crowd went insane, and Harry felt Severus' hand slide from his. When he looked at the older man he saw the telltale beginnings of a smile in his eyes, and the strain of keeping his lips in a straight line. Harry reached for his drink, and let the night wash over him.

The band took a set break, and Neruda sat with them. She said nothing about the song, and instead sipped the water brought for her and watched the two men. When the lights flickered for her to retake the stage she stood and kissed Severus' forehead. "Father." She stepped over and kissed Harry's as well. "Daddy." Then she mounted the stage and began the last half of the show. Harry sat frozen in his seat. The stupid grin that overtook his face was uncontrollable.

They stumbled back into the house together, Harry drunk on Firewhiskey and Neruda drunk on victory. She went to bed on her own, and Severus led Harry upstairs and through the bedroom door carefully. He lowered Harry to the bed, and then knelt and began to unlace his shoestrings.

Harry's head was spinning as he watched the bent head in front of him, and he groaned when the shoes came off and Severus moved his fingers to the button on his jeans. The older man gave him a careful look. "You have had too much to drink."

Harry shook his head and licked his lips, "Just enough. Ravish me you old pervert."

Severus lifted one eyebrow and pulled Harry's jeans off in one fluid motion. He pushed the younger man backwards onto the bed. "The words old and pervert do not endear you to me Potter." Harry was only pretty sure his tone was amused.

"Call me young and stupid Snape. Call me whatever. Ravish me."

"You are aware," that eyebrow still arched, his skilled fingers undoing the buttons on Harry's shirt, "that you are not some young woman. Ravishing is not a term I would apply to our activities."

Harry reached out to fumble with Severus' shirt buttons. "I'll call it what I want. Now do it."

Harry felt hands stroking up the inside of his thighs, and he leaned his head back and moaned. That was the last thing he remembered. When he woke up his head was aching, he was still wearing his boxers, and Snape was nowhere to be seen. Beside him was a note, and he pulled it forward, fumbling for his glasses beside it.

_Harry,_

_You are a rather wanton drunk. Unfortunately you are also a narcoleptic drunk. I took Neruda to the grocery. Will see you when we return._

_-S_

Harry wanted to be embarrassed, or annoyed, but instead he remembered the feel of fingertips on his lips, and the sound of Neruda calling him _Daddy_, and all he could do was laugh, and then desperately began to search for a hangover potion as his head reminded him that laughing was loud.

When the two of them returned Harry was twenty pages into his new novel, and he didn't realize they were there until he felt a light kiss on his head and looked up to see Neruda. Severus was digging through the owl post, and he dropped several letters onto the table before he opened one that seemed of particular interest. Harry watched the man's whole demeanor change.

Harry shot his eyes to Neruda, but she was smiling at her father's expression without any seeming concern. After five full minutes of silence Harry cleared his throat twice before Severus looked at him. "What does the letter say?"

"It is from a fellow brewer. He is requesting my assistance in finishing a new potion. He has sent me his work so far, and is offering me the right to both name the potion, and claim half-ownership of the recipe."

"So you're…happy about this?"

Severus nodded. Then stood and walked through the study door into the library and down to his lab without another word. Harry turned to Neruda, and she smiled and shrugged her shoulders. "Father is very devoted to his work. We'll see little of him for the next few days. Which gives us time to plan his birthday party."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Will he like this party idea?"

Neruda's look turned mischievous, "Would he admit it if he did?"

Harry had to concede defeat.


	17. The Power of Devotion

Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter, the characters, the settings, and the details are not my own. J.K Rowling holds the rights to these wonderful things, and I am in awe of her talent. I own only my original characters, and of those there are not many.

Chapter Seventeen: The Power of Devotion

"'Cause they took your loved ones/ But returned them in exchange for you/ But would you have it any other way?/ Would you have it any other way?/ You could have had it any other way/ 'Cause she's a crueler mistress/ And the bargain must be made/ But oh, my love, don't forget me/ But I let the water take me" –Florence and the Machine "What the Water Gave Me"

Neruda's prediction held true. For three days Harry and she saw little of Severus other than when he came to meals or went to bed. His conversational skills became grunts, nods, and the occasional sarcastic comment. The first day Harry found it amusing, the second annoying, the third day he was exasperated with it.

Neruda spent this time delegating responsibilities to Harry regarding Severus' birthday. She sent invitations by owl, looked up recipes for cakes, and lectured Harry on the importance of his complete discretion. When Harry pointed out he wasn't speaking to Severus enough to blow the secret she simply gave him a look. Three days before the event Harry found himself standing in the hallway looking at the picture of Snape hugging Neruda. He almost jumped out of his skin at the sound of Severus' voice in his ear.

"What is fascinating you so Harry?"

Harry glared at Severus over his shoulder. "I hate it when you do that."

"I know. What are you staring at?"

"Neruda's hair." He had been staring at the look on Severus' face. "I was thinking how odd it was to see her with short hair. I can't believe her parents let her cut it that way."

Severus' face darkened. "They didn't. The Death Eater cut it. She said he preferred it short and manageable."

Something went off in the back of Harry's head, and then fled at the feeling of long fingers stroking along his hip. He turned around. "What are you doing?"

"You started something you could not finish Mr. Potter. I was wondering if you were up to finishing it now." 

Harry found himself upstairs being led through the steps necessary to find Severus' prostate.

"Down Potter. For Merlin's sake angle down."

Harry angled down, and the sound Severus made was worth every bit of feeling like he was once again an inept student in Potions class. The instructions became only sounds of encouragement, and when Severus came Harry followed him, and released the bruising grip he'd had on the older man's hips. Harry carefully extracted himself, and watched Severus move to the bathroom. He closed his eyes and relaxed against the bed listening to the sounds of running water. He must have drifted off for a moment, because he was jerked awake by the feel of a warm washcloth dropping over his groin. He grunted his thanks and cleaned himself.

When Severus lay down beside him he turned his head and raised an eyebrow. "What brought that on?"

"I have been meaning to do that for days. I just got a bit distracted."

Harry nodded. "You were certainly distracted. Did you finish your potion?"

"I did. I sent it out just before I came upstairs."

"Does it work?"

Severus gave him a wry look. "Of course it works."

"Well what does it do?"

"Harry, are you really interested or are you attempting polite post-coital conversation?"

"I'm interested. I can be interested in potions."

An eyebrow was raised in his direction. "It is a rather advanced hybrid of Calming Drought, mixed with a combination of ingredients that will cause the user to have increased focus, hyper-awareness, and a fairly intense boost in memory."

Harry's eyes drifted to the ceiling as he considered this. "What's it for?"

"It has several practical applications, but I am assuming the brewer will sell it for people who are about to work on large projects. The Calming Drought portion will allow for an almost complete suppression of personal emotions. I could use it to brew if I needed such an enhancement."

"So is this a guy you went to school with, or just someone you know professionally?"

Harry felt Severus push himself up off the bed. "I do not know him personally." He began to put his clothes on as Harry's eyes moved from the ceiling to Severus.

"I thought you said he was a fellow brewer?"

"He is. It was obvious from his notes that he is very experienced with Potions. Is Neruda planning a surprise party for me?"

Harry choked for a moment. He rolled over and got up from the bed. "Not that I know of. I have some writing to do, but it's good to have you back."

Harry pulled his clothes on rapidly as Severus stared at him, and fled the room. Dinner that night was a delicate dance, as Severus stared speculatively at Harry and Neruda. Harry found himself fidgeting under the steady gaze, rushing through his food to avoid further inspection. Neruda ate as if there was nothing going on. Harry wrote more in the following day than he had since he'd come to Severus' house. It was the only way to avoid conversation, and he found himself constantly amazed at how easily Neruda played off her part of it. When the day of the party came Harry was so busy running around for last minute items under the guise of moving his things from his flat that he didn't have time to worry about Severus' reaction. 

Time moved quickly that day, and Harry came home to a room full of people. He was surprised that Neruda had invited Hermione and Ron along with several of the Hogwarts staff, but he was gob smacked to see Lucius and Draco Malfoy. No one in the room was speaking to the two Malfoys, and they seemed comfortable with that. Harry steered Neruda into the next room and simply pointed with a raised eyebrow to convey his question. She made a face.

"They're father's friends. I couldn't avoid asking them. It's the one night of the year I promise not to put up a fuss about them coming."

Harry considered that for a moment, and then gave a resigned nod. "I suppose I can play nice for one night. Now more importantly is your father going to kill us when he sees this?" Harry looked around at the streamers she had put up, and the multiple festive decorations. "Also, where is he?"

Neruda's grin was broad. "I sent him out. I told him I was missing something for dinner tonight, and I wouldn't stand it if I couldn't make his favorite for his birthday. Did you get the gifts?"

Harry nodded. "Is there someone looking out for his return?"

"Yep. I put Hermione on it. Let's get back in there and make sure Lucius and Draco don't insult anybody."

Harry headed back into the study with her. He saw that Minerva had headed across the room, and was attempting polite conversation with the two Malfoys. She shot him a look that stated her dislike of the task, but she continued at it, and Harry was immensely grateful. After a few awkward minutes Hermione said, "I see him, somebody hit the lights."

Neruda rushed for the switch, and then headed out to the hall. Harry heard her greet her father, and then tell him he should sit in the study while she cooked and enjoy a Scotch. The door opened slowly, and then the lights snapped on. Various levels of enthusiasm accompanied a communal shout of "Surprise", and Harry watched Severus' jaw work quickly for a moment, and then he put on the tightest of smiles.

"Neruda. A surprise party. I am shocked."

She gave Harry a dark look, and he shook his head. Lucius stood in his place and smiled broadly at Severus. "Let us hope that this is not the most shocking or pleasing of your surprises tonight. Come, I believe Neruda has made you a splendid meal."

Severus was being led out by Lucius, and Draco followed closely behind. He brushed against Neruda's arm, and a dark cloud briefly passed over her face. Harry was the only one to notice it as the others were heading out into the hallway. He stooped down beside her. "Is everything all right?"

She looked at Harry strangely. Then she hugged him very tightly. "I meant it you know. When I called you daddy. I want you to always remember that ok?"

Harry received the hug, and then pulled back to look in her eyes. "Why are you telling me this?" The cloud was gone from her face, but her smile was a bit too tight.

"Because I love you, and I can't express how much better it is to have you here."

Harry nodded, swallowing hard against the emotions her confession brought up. He touched her long silky hair gently, and that warning bell began to go off in the back of his mind again. Something she had said, something about her hair and its control. What was it?

Hermione stuck her head in the door. "Come on you two, you're being terrible hosts."

Once again it fled Harry's grasp, and he felt annoyed for just a moment before he stood and led Neruda by the hand into the dining room. Harry used magic to deliver the plates and plates of food Neruda had prepared, and then took the seat she had set up for him at the opposite end of the table from Severus. She was seated on her father's right, and Lucius sat to his left. Dinner was served, and Harry watched everyone tuck in.

The last time they had had such a grouping was Christmas Eve, and Harry considered the differences between then and now. He found that he was only sporadically in the conversation for this gathering. The majority of discussion was centered on the older people at the table telling stories that only they knew. Harry spent more time watching than talking, and his focus was entirely on Severus. He watched the man carefully, at first afraid that Neruda's moment of tension had come from some inkling that her father was angrier than he had seemed at first.

It didn't take long to rule that out. Harry had become very adept in the time he had spent with the man at picking up on the subtle clues he gave as to his true feelings. He no longer needed overt emotional reactions, he could tell from the minute crinkling of Severus' eyes, the tilt of his head, the angle of his eyebrows, and the placement of his fingers what was going on inside the man's head. He saw that Severus was happy, although cautiously so. As the night progressed and even Ron and Hermione were offering up stories about Severus, including one particularly hilarious one about Neville and a Potions disaster, Harry saw Severus laugh openly. The first time it happened Ron flinched once, and then smiled broadly as he saw it was a good laugh. When the meal was finished Neruda and Harry went into the kitchen, and Hermione turned the lights off. Harry used magic to light the candles in the impressively sized cake she had baked. They carried it carefully between them into the dining room.

The singing was loud and raucous, Harry had also seen how much wine the majority of the guests were drinking, and when the cake was placed in front of Severus he felt the long fingers he had come to so enjoy stroke his wrist covertly before moving to the tabletop in front of the older man. Severus blew all the candles out, and Neruda gleefully called for him to make a wish.

The cake was served, and everyone hungrily devoured it while wrapping up their story-telling. It was after midnight when dessert was finished, and people began to express their thanks, and gather their things to leave for the night, Neruda stood at her place beside her father and clinked her glass. Everyone turned to look at her.

She surveyed the table before speaking. "I would like it if we all said something about father, and I'll begin." She turned to Severus, "There was a time in my life when I thought I'd never smile again. You have proved me wrong time and time again. I can never thank you for all you've done for me, and I know that there's no way to explain to you what you mean to me. So I'll stick to the simplest of declarations. I love you. You're my father and no matter what I will always love you. Thank you for everything, but mostly thank you for being my father." She sat down, and Harry saw her eyes were sparkling with tears. Severus reached out and tousled her hair, and Harry saw tightness in the man's eyes that he had never observed before.

Minerva stood next, "Severus Snape. I was right about all the good things I ever said about you. If Albus was here tonight he would be so happy to see you finally in a position you belong in; one in which you are loved and respected, and where you are free to be yourself. I am honored to be your colleague, and to be your friend."

Severus nodded at her as Hagrid stood next. "Hullo. 'M not so good at speeches, but I'd like to say I agree with Minerva. You're an 'onorable man Severus Snape."

Sprout stood next and cleared her throat."I have never met a man who knew how to make my herbs work the way you do. I've always respected you, but now I've learned to like you, and I find that is much better. Happy Birthday Severus."

Hermione stood nervously, one hand on her swelling belly. "Severus, I'd just like to say thank you. You've made my best friend happy, and given me yourself and your wonderful daughter as new friends. I cannot express the level of respect and gratitude I have for you, but I hope I can show it. Ron and I have something we'd like to ask you and Harry."

Severus' eyebrow raised, and Harry gave him a quick shake of his head to indicate he didn't know what was coming. Ron stood beside Hermione, and Harry saw that he was blushing and nervous. He cleared his throat loudly, and then turned to face Severus head on.

"Uh, yeah, Hermione and I were wondering if you and Harry would be the godparents of our son."

Harry took a breath, and he saw that Severus was struggling to control his face in front of the group. The silence was about to turn uncomfortable, when Severus stood with his hands gripping the edge of the table tightly. "I would be honored. "

Harry's friends turned to look at him in unison, and Harry stood as well. "Yes of course. I would also be honored."

Ron moved over and slapped Harry on the back roughly. "Thanks mate!"

Hermione went the opposite way, and hugged Severus tightly. "Thank you Severus."

Harry saw Severus standing awkwardly with his hands to either side of Hermione, and slowly he reached around and patted her shoulder gently. She released him after a moment and dashed the tears from her eyes, returning to Harry to hug him as well. Then she and Ron sat. Harry found himself the next in line to speak. He took a gulp of wine, and then stood up.

"Yes, well, a lot of what I want to say has been said. So I'll try to be brief and not repeat others. You saved my life countless times and I never thanked you. You put yourself at risk for me and I never thanked you. You've let me come into your home, and your life, and the life of your daughter, and I've never really thanked you. At this point saying thanks seems to be futile, I can't really thank you. I once called you a coward, and I saw you angrier than I'd ever seen you. Now I know why. I was so wrong about you in school, and I cannot apologize for that. You are the bravest man I have ever known, and my life has been enriched beyond reason simply knowing you." Harry sat abruptly. If he spoke any further he knew he'd say something he'd regret, and potentially out the two of them. The words 'I love you' had been right there on the edge of his tongue, and instead of saying them he met Severus' eyes.

The tightness was there again, and Harry finally recognized it. Severus Snape was trying not to cry, and Harry bit down on his cheek to avoid the same fate. It had taken years, but Harry finally had a family and a home he could call his own. All of that was because of Severus and Neruda. He glanced at her, and saw she was crying openly with a broad smile on her face. For the first time in his life Harry was glad Severus could see right through him. He didn't need to say anything; it was all there for Severus to see.

Draco stood fluidly. "Uncle Severus, allow me to say that I'm humbled at the task of following the previous speeches. You have been very good to me my whole life, and I am very grateful for that. I know that you saved my life during the war numerous times, and I'm grateful for that as well. I can only hope I can repay you one day. Happy Birthday."

As Draco took his seat Lucius stood, and turned to the man next to him. "Severus, my best friend and my brother, I am so pleased to be here with you and your friends. I will keep my speech brief, and offer you tribute I know I have offered before. You are a genius at your craft, a man who has mastered the ability to say much with nothing, and a hidden sentimentalist of the highest order. I hope tonight frees you of all burdens and cares, and is the beginning of a life less ordinary and more extraordinary. Happy Birthday Severus."

Harry's eyes landed on Neruda, and he watched as she glared at Lucius. Severus stood next though, and her eyes flew to him.

"Thank you all, this has been a wonderful celebration. I know the majority of you are about to leave, but allow me to say this. Harry Potter and I are going to be living together, as we are involved. Thank you again for a wonderful birthday."

Ron's face became brighter than his hair, Draco stood swiftly and angrily, Lucius raised an eyebrow, Sprout and Minerva gaped, Hagrid boomed out a laugh, Hermione smiled, and Neruda applauded. With that Severus stood, and gestured to lead them all out. Hermione and Ron used the Floo, and Lucius and Draco stayed behind in the study for an after dessert Scotch. Harry watched them carefully. 

"So Potter, worked your way into my godfather's bed as well as his home? What's next?"

Harry's eyes narrowed at Draco, but Lucius waved a hand at him while giving his son a stern look. "Ignore him Mr. Potter. My son has never been good at congratulatory speeches."

Severus re-entered the room, and looked around it before sitting and taking the drink Lucius offered him and quickly draining it before pouring himself a second. On the couch beside Harry Neruda accepted her own glass of water from Lucius, and she sipped it slowly. Harry watched her eyes widen at the first sip. Everything moved quickly in the next few seconds. All his battle training deserted him in the sudden and brutal turn the night took.

Draco and Lucius stood casting, and Harry found himself bound and wandless before he knew what was happening. Severus stood clumsily, his hand dropping the glass he had been holding before he fell back into the couch. Harry looked at his glazed eyes. The connection his mind had been trying to make since the day Severus came out of his lab finally clicked into place.

Neruda's comment about the combs Lucius had brought her, Severus' response about her hair being cut to be manageable, and Lucius' odd behavior regarding Severus' daughter. Harry opened his mouth to say or do something, but he was distracted by Neruda's suddenly standing up. When he turned he saw something that chilled him to the bone. Before when she had entered a fugue her pupils would overtake her irises. It had gone far beyond that. Her face was smooth, emotionless, and her eyes were two completely black orbs. She tilted her head calmly and considered the room.

Lucius smiled softly. "Hello Aesa. I've finally come to claim you."


	18. How You Love the Dead

Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter, the characters, the settings, and the details are not my own. J.K Rowling holds the rights to these wonderful things, and I am in awe of her talent. I own only my original characters, and of those there are not many.

Chapter Eighteen: How You Love the Dead

"From the darkness beyond the fence came a strong harmonic humming. The sound of many voices, all singing together. Singing one vast open note. 'Here is yes,' the voices said. 'Here is you may. Here is the good turn, the fortunate meeting, the fever that broke just before dawn and left your blood calm. Here is the wish that came true and the understanding eye. Here is the kindness you were given and thus learned to pass on. Here is the sanity and clarity you thought were lost. Here, everything is all right." –Stephen King Wolves_ of the Calla_

Harry managed to shout at Neruda to run before Draco cast _Silencio_ on him. Then Harry was left to struggle against his bonds, and to wait for Severus to do something impressive. Neruda never even turned to look at him. She stepped forward to stand in front of Lucius and Severus. Harry could see Severus struggling to lift and aim his wand. Lucius simply plucked it from his grasp.

"Severus, my friend, please understand this is not personal. It's business."

Severus' head swiveled towards Lucius, and he glared in his general direction. His voice came out slurred and unsure. "You killed her family? You raped my daughter? You want me to not take this personally Lucius?"

Harry pulled violently forward and managed to fall off his seat and onto the floor. Draco kicked him once in the ribs and turned his attention back to his father.

"Yes. You spent all these years looking for a sadist with pedophilic tendencies. You overlooked the possibility that it would be me because I am none of those things. I was simply doing a job."

Lucius knelt down and gently led Severus' head so he was looking directly at Neruda. Her face was still that calm emotionless mask. "Look at it Severus. Really look. It's not a little girl it's a tool. You've been entirely too sentimental. You let the love you had for a dead woman lead you to Dumbledore, and you let your love of the vessel's personality cloud your judgment. The thing you called your daughter was a placeholder. The Dark Lord wanted us to break it down so it could be suppressed entirely, and bringing the real Oracle forward puts you in control of it. Think of it Severus, Fate at your disposal, the most powerful of the Fates dedicated to you and only you."

Severus shook his head in denial. "No. No Lucius she's my daughter. Not a tool. Not a thing. _**My daughter**_."

Lucius released Severus' head and stood beside her again, his hand going to her hair. She had no reaction at all. "I wish it could have been different, but it can't. I worked on that potion for three years so that I could break it down without repeating the former process. The minute it bonded to you my choices were kill you to finish what I started or find another way. With your genius at brewing I found one, and could save your life. You'll be free Severus. Finally free. I know you'll thank me once you're thinking more clearly."

Harry watched in horror as Severus put the pieces together, and he began to scream silently at Lucius as he worked against his bonds, struggling to move across the room to the two people he loved. Neruda glanced at him calmly, and then turned her head back to Lucius. When she spoke her voice was beautiful and terrible at the same time. It was the sound of a thousand gentle whispers of goodbye. It was the sound of a thousand death screams. "So you are the one who has destroyed the personality?"

Lucius nodded greedily. Severus held out a shaking hand. "Neruda, dearest, please don't."

She turned to him, and knelt before him taking his face into her hands and kissing his forehead. "You have been a fine father to her, but she's dead now Severus Snape. Do you love the dead so much you'd ignore opportunity?"

Harry's struggles froze when Severus began to weep. His head hung down in her hands, and his hair covered his face. "I want my daughter. I care nothing for your opportunity."

Harry saw the she was surprised, and then she stood. She looked at Harry again for just a moment, and something strange tickled the back of his mind. He thought of her standing before Hermione the day of the New Year's Eve show, thought of Hermione looking shaken at learning about her past, thought of Hermione shaking, shaking and scared of what she was about to do.

Lucius stepped forward and grabbed her arm. "I've had enough of this. I freed you, and now I will bind you. Put out your hand Aesa."

Hermione shaking in front of Ron in a Full Body-Bind. Hermione holding her wand out carefully and almost whispering the spell. What spell? Why was he going back to the Luchino Caffe?

She looked first at the hand on her arm, and then at the man it belonged to. She put her hand out obediently. Lucius pulled a knife from his pocket, and sliced her hand open. She did not react to the pain, or the copious amount of blood that came from the wound. "Severus I promise you'll see reason. Once you've had to time to see what it really is you'll be grateful. We'll be rich." He smiled at Severus. "Richer and more powerful than we've ever been."

Hermione whispering _Diffindo_, her hand shaking. Ron cut, but free of his bindings. Harry focused his power, and closed his eyes. Wandless and non-verbal the spell was more difficult than he thought it could be. Outside of his head he vaguely registered that Draco was moving away from his side. Good. He cast once and had no result. Then he cast again, and he felt the bindings release. His eyes opened and he scanned the room to plan his attack. Draco had moved over to his father's side. Severus was on his knees looking up at Neruda. She was standing, staring dispassionately at her bleeding hand.

Harry was building up to summon his wand and begin attacking when Neruda began to speak.

"With the blood of this vessel I bind myself to my master. This bond is irrevocable, unchanging, and will link us in life until death. Open your mouth Lucius Malfoy." She stepped forward so that she was between Severus and Lucius. Harry held his hand out and summoned his wand. It flew from where Draco had dropped it to his hand, but Draco's Seeker eyes saw the movement and he turned and drew on Harry.

What happened next moved so swiftly that all the inhabitants in the room froze in the wake of its force. Lucius opened his mouth at the same time Severus shouted, "Neruda no!" Neruda's hand moved to her left, and she placed the bleeding wound over Severus' mouth. Harry cast _Petrificus_ at Draco, and then Severus made a choking noise and Harry watched as his throat worked to swallow. Everything in the room stopped moving apart from Neruda, Severus, and Harry.

Lucius was frozen in place, his hand out and his face twisted in rage. Draco was falling backwards towards the floor. Neruda removed her hand from Severus' mouth, and Harry saw the blood smeared across his lips and chin. She knelt before him.

"Master."

Severus shook his head in denial. Harry saw that his eyes were hellishly clear and aware.

"Yes, master. It was your potion that achieved the destruction of the personality you called Neruda. Your work that freed me. Your daughter was the only barrier between myself and this world. The strongest of the sisters of Fate is at your command. Simply speak what you wish and I will make it happen. You can have revenge, wealth, power, anything you desire. Just command me."

With shaking hands Severus reached forward and took her shoulders in his hands. "I want my daughter back."

She tilted her head up. "You would give up the chance to be the most powerful man in the world to have a girl that was nothing but a construct back? Your loyalty is touching Severus Snape, but ultimately foolish."

Harry's legs unfroze, and he staggered forward to put his hand on the man's shoulder. Neruda's eyes tilted towards him. "And you Harry Potter? Will you show your lover reason, or join him in sentimental foolishness?"

Harry looked down at Severus, and then back up at Neruda. "I've never been known for my intelligence."

She shook her head, and chuckled lightly. Harry's hair stood on end at the sound of it. "In my time I have only been successfully called twice. The personalities are built resilient to avoid this outcome. Never did I think someone would give me up so easily."

She glanced once at Lucius and Draco, and then turned back to Severus and Harry. When she stood she brought Severus with her, and her hand moved once in a slow drawing motion that led Severus' wand forward into his own fingers. "I cannot break the bond, but I can return the personality to you. Your Neruda will still die with you, and if you ever need it I will return. Listen to me carefully Severus Snape, if I come back she will be gone forever. Weigh that carefully."

She leaned forward and lifted his arm, rolling back the sleeve and then gently kissing the center of the Dark Mark. Harry jerked forward as Severus let out a harsh scream, and when her head lifted the Mark was gone. In its place were the Greek letters that spelled her given name. Her black eyes focused on Severus, and she stroked his face gently. Then she dropped to the floor like a stone, hitting at the same time as Draco. Severus moved forward in one smooth motion and slammed his fist into Lucius' face. Harry heard the brutal crunch of the man's aristocratic nose.

Lucius staggered backwards, and Severus cast _Sectumsempra_ in one fluid strike. Harry wanted to be horrified at the target of that strike, but he only felt a vicious satisfaction. Lucius' scream was unearthly as his hands flew downwards. Harry petrified the man, and then cast the healing charms necessary to stop the bleeding. He thought of George's ear, and how it would never grow back. His smile was almost unrecognizable. 

Auror Watts looked skeptically at the concentration of blood on Lucius. "Self-defense?"

Severus scowled, "I was drugged and on my knees. My aim was terrible."

Watts tilted his head, "And that was after you broke his nose."

Harry shook his head, "No I broke his nose. I threw that chair at him."

Watts looked at the two of them for a long moment, and then he looked at Neruda lying asleep on the couch. "Yes well, good enough for me. I'll take them to Azkaban to await trial."

When he had left Severus sat on the floor in front of Neruda's sleeping form and watched her chest rise and fall. Harry sat beside him silently, and pushed a piece of hair back behind her ear.

"I called it the Faust Problem. When I was young I called it the Faust Problem."

Harry tilted his head thoughtfully, "Faust was the one who sold his soul to the Devil?"

Severus nodded, then cleared his throat, "For knowledge. It is the downfall of all academics that the lure of knowledge, of learning, often makes them act foolishly. The resulting information is rarely worth the price."

Harry's hand found Severus' and gripped it tightly. "You didn't know the name was a fake, and you didn't know that was what the potion was for. You didn't even know the whole thing was possible. You can't blame yourself."

Severus squeezed Harry's hand silently, and for a moment Harry thought he would argue, but instead he responded with, "The party was a nice touch. You have to learn to lie better."

Harry frowned. "Well maybe if you weren't so damn suspicious all the time."

"Maybe if you had even an inkling of subtlety."

"Maybe if you weren't so crotchety."

Severus snorted once, and then fell completely silent when Neruda turned her head and opened her eyes.

"You two are not helping me convalesce. Be nice to each other or be quiet." 

A/N: So there's an epilogue after this. I've been toying with the idea of writing three stories with these two, each with an aspect of the three fates in them but completely unconnected otherwise. I would be interested in feedback, if that idea is appealing? That may be a blatant ploy for reviews. As for Neruda, this next chapter will signal her retirement. She had a good run, but it's time for her to settle into this world's version of "Happily Ever After".


	19. Epilogue

Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter, the characters, the settings, and the details are not my own. J.K Rowling holds the rights to these wonderful things, and I am in awe of her talent. I own only my original characters, and of those there are not many.

Epilogue

"Let it be forgotten, as a flower is forgotten,/ Forgotten as a fire that once was singing gold./ Let it be forgotten forever and ever,/ Time is a kind friend, he will make us old."- Sara Teasdale "Let it Be Forgotten"

Harry watched as she rushed from the oven to the pantry and then back to the oven, flipping the chicken in the pan and then adding the noodles to the boiling pot. She shot him a sharp glance. "Are you going to help or just watch?"

"Did you want me to interrupt your carefully crafted system here?"

She shook her head and stirred the sauce. "I just thought you could go out there and maybe stop him? Or slow him down? Something helpful?"

Harry couldn't help himself, he laughed for several moments before standing. "When has anyone been able to stop him from doing what he wants?"

At this Neruda began to carefully pull finished pieces of chicken out of the pan and drop them in the sauce. "Dad, please, I like this one. A lot. Just go in there and soothe him. Just a little."

Harry left the kitchen and went into the study where Severus was sitting opposite a pale and tense young man. The two of them were simply staring at each other. They had been doing that same thing when Harry left the study for the kitchen twenty minutes before. He was fairly sure they hadn't moved since then. He put his hand gently on Severus' shoulder, and then caught the boy's eye.

"So Jake, how are you liking the Auror training program?" The boy's face showed grateful relief. He leaned forward and licked his lips nervously.

"I love it sir. I can't describe how good it is to be able to protect people. Not that I need to tell you, I mean you're Harry Potter and-"He stopped and swallowed, his eyes traveling back to Severus.

Severus drummed his fingers once against the arm of the chair. He said nothing, and simply raised one eyebrow. Harry had to suppress a chuckle. "How far are you from completion?"

The boy's eyes darted from Severus to Harry and back again. "Not far. I have a few months before graduation, and then I'll take the oath and begin the real work. Is Neruda almost done?"

Now Severus leaned forward, and in a voice that could have chilled a Dementor he asked, "Are you suggesting my daughter is not cooking your dinner to your desired speed?"

Harry squeezed Severus' shoulder lightly, and when the man looked at him he shook his head. Jake had turned a shade whiter. It was at that moment that Neruda stuck her head in the study. She appraised the three men carefully, and then looking at Jake she said, "Dinner is ready."

Jake almost fled to the dining room, and Harry held Severus back when he started to follow. The two looked at each other. "She wants me to tell you to tone it down."

"I hope you told her that there is no chance of that."

Harry shook his head grinning widely, "I told her that, but she's holding out hope."

Severus glanced towards the door distastefully, "He was a terrible Potions student. Another foolish Gryffindor that cared only for Quidditch and feigned nobility."

Harry tilted his head and pursed his lips. "Like me?"

There was a pause, and then Severus turned and captured Harry's mouth with his own. His fingers trailed down the back of Harry's neck, and stroked the sensitive point between Harry's shoulder blades. When he released Harry's mouth he looked him in the eye, "No, your nobility was never feigned."

Harry nodded and turned towards the dining room. "Just don't make this one cry Severus. He seems much better than the last one."

"Why does she have to date at all?"

Harry just laughed as he pushed through to the dining room. He found Neruda sitting beside Jake and holding his hand, whispering fervently to him. When Harry entered she shot him another pleading look. Harry watched with amusement as Severus entered pointedly looking at Jake's hand holding Neruda's. Jake swallowed hard, and defiantly held on.

After dinner Severus offered to walk Jake to the apparition point. Neruda flatly refused; reminding him it was his turn to do dishes. She turned to Harry. "You take him dad. I'll help father wash up." The pleading was back. Harry nodded calmly and then gestured Jake to the door. Severus turned and stalked towards the kitchen. The effect was somewhat ruined by his lack of robes.

When Harry and Jake had gotten to the apparition point outside of the wards Jake turned to him, "Thank you for taking me sir. Professor Snape is still rather…intimidating."

Harry nodded with a gentle smile, and then stepped forward into Jake's personal space. Before Jake knew what was happening Harry's wand point was in his throat, and his mouth beside the young man's ear. "If you hurt my daughter I'll spend the rest of your miserable life making you regret it."

Then Harry stepped back, wand already put away and the smile back in place. "Have a good night Jake." He walked back down the driveway.

Neruda waited for him on the doorstep with Severus behind her. The minute she saw Harry's face she groaned and threw her hands up. "The two of you want me to live here forever and die an old, untouched maid!"

Severus tilted his head, "Actually that is a wonderful idea."

Harry pointed behind him down the hallway. "Move on old man. Those dishes won't do themselves and you just lost your assistant."

The look he received was well worth it.

Harry lay in bed typing the last few sentences in his newest novel. When Severus exited the bathroom he closed the laptop and put it underneath the bed. "So are we running this one off too?"

Severus lay beside him and considered the ceiling. "Maybe not. At least he has table manners."

Harry ran a finger slowly up Severus' torso, tracing a path of scars up to one dusky nipple. "And he's a Gryffindor. I like that."

"Harry Potter. You have roughly twenty seconds before I flip you over and debase you. Is this the way you wish to spend your allotted foreplay time?"

Harry considered this, and then removed his glasses and put them carefully on the nightstand. "No, I'd prefer to spend it this way."

He leaned in and took Severus' mouth this time, tasting all the older man had to offer him. Long, graceful fingers worked their way around his side and up his back. Harry moaned as Severus began to knead the sore spots of his lower back, before pulling Harry on top of him. Seven years and still the man could make him crazy in only moments.

He considered his time before Neruda and Severus as his pants were removed, as those thin lips worked their way down his torso leaving a trail of fire. How had he ever called that living? A hot mouth took his flesh into it while slippery fingers entered him slowly. He tilted his head back, moaning loudly and reaching up to grip the headboard. This was living.


End file.
